


Silent as Sunlight

by Pigzxo



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Canon-Typical Violence, Deaf Mickey, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-04-22 20:14:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 73
Words: 86,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4849010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigzxo/pseuds/Pigzxo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian Gallagher notices a deaf boy in his History class trying to read their professor’s lips, but failing because of his thick accent. Ian offers his help, and when Mickey refuses, helps out anyways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moirabartons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moirabartons/gifts).



Ian raced down the stairs, pulling on a sweater as he went, tripping as he forgot the last stair. He grabbed a piece of toast from the toaster as it popped up and got an annoyed, “Hey!” from Carl in response. Ruffling Carl’s hair, Ian bit into the toast and headed to the fridge. He twirled the top off the orange juice and downed half the carton before putting it back.

            “Okay, I’m off,” he said, heading for the kitchen door.

            “Ian,” Fiona said. He turned back at the sharpness in her voice. She finished putting peanut butter on a third sandwich. Raising an eyebrow, she inclined her head towards the day-of-the-week pill box on the counter. “Forgetting something?”

            Stopping himself from picking up his bag, he walked back to the counter, opened the box for Wednesday, and swallowed all of the pills dry.

            “You’re not supposed to do that,” Lip reminded him, barrelling into the kitchen in a heavy coat and pulling off his hat.

            “I’m late,” Ian replied.

            “Shoulda set an alarm.”

            “You turned it off.”

            Lip smirked and Ian took a playful swing at him. Lip dodged and, shaking his head, Ian headed back towards the door. He glanced around the kitchen and said, “Hey. Tell Debbie good luck on her first day?”

            Both Lip and Fiona stared at him blankly. Sighing, Ian shrugged his backpack onto his shoulders and then quickly demonstrated the sign for “good luck”. Lip repeated it back to him and Ian licked his lips, nodding reluctantly.

            He nearly slipped the backpack off as he said, “Maybe I should stay. See that she gets off to school all right. Maybe meet with her new interpreter?”

            Fiona shook her head. “It’s been fourteen years, Ian. We can talk to her, you know.”

            “But you can’t remember ‘good luck’?”

            Lip shrugged. “Don’t say it a lot. But ‘hello’, ‘how are you’, ‘let’s go to school’.” Lip demonstrated every sign as he said the words. He smiled. “It’s fine. Go to class. You’re gonna be late.”

            Ian checked the clock and sighed, pulling his backpack up onto his shoulders. The Psych textbook weighed heavily against his back and its hard edges dug into his spine. “Just tell her good luck, hope she has fun, and remind the interpreter that-”

            “She sucks at reading lips,” Lip replied, just as Debbie came down the stairs.

            Ian frowned at him, but it was clear that Debbie hadn’t seen. She wandered into the kitchen, looking around, and glanced at Ian. Ian, raising one eyebrow, signed, _“Should you really be wearing that?”_

            She looked down at the tight hot pink tank top she was wearing along with cut-off jean shorts. Shrugging, she signed, _“You should probably be more concerned about getting to class than with what I’m wearing.”_

            _“Good luck at school,”_ Ian replied and then he was out the door.

            Just as he was closing it behind him, he heard Debbie call, “You too!”

            Smiling, Ian hustled down the street and towards the bus station. Northwestern was a little less than an hour away by bus, but given the fact that he was probably going to miss the one that was coming and he only had an hour until his first class of his first semester started, he was going to be late.

            Not a good way to start out the semester.

***

            Ian ran into the room, breathing hard, and tried his best not to cause a racket. Of course, the huge wooden doors banging behind him were noisy enough to cause a few people at the back of the room to look up at him. He smiled sheepishly and walked forward, slipping into the first empty seat he saw.

            He pulled a notebook and a pen from his backpack, shivering. Rubbing his hands together, he looked up at the professor at the front of the room. The woman –whose name he’d forgotten in the five months since he had registered– looked no taller than an ant from the back of the lecture hall. She was already lecturing, speaking about the different parts of neurons, and Ian rushed to start taking notes.

            His pen fluttered between his frozen fingers. “Coffee?” a voice next to him asked.

            Glancing to his right, he saw a girl with dyed black hair and crystal clear blue eyes. Her smile hooked up towards her nose ring as she held out a cup of campus coffee. Steam billowed out of it and she was careful to keep her fingers on the cardboard sleeve.

            Ian smiled. “I’m not going to take your coffee.”

            “It’s fine,” she said, setting it down on the miniscule portion of the tiny desk that was not covered by his notebook. She rubbed her fingers as if they were burned. “I haven’t had any yet. And you look like you need it more than I do.” Ian stared at her and she shrugged. “It’s the dark circles under your eyes. Dead giveaway.”

            Ian stared at the coffee longingly but then shook his head. He picked it up and put it back on the girl’s desk. “I can’t,” he said.

            She shrugged and looked back towards the instructor at the front of the room. Ian noticed she had barely any notes so far; her curling script written in purple pen across only the top two lines of the page. And all that was written was the teacher’s name, email, and office hours.

            Ian quickly copied it all down, ignoring the sly smile she gave him as he did so. Then he tried to get back on track with the notes up on the projector, but the teacher was going too fast. He bit back a sigh of frustration.

            “She puts it all online,” the girl whispered as Ian, flustered, flipped the page of his notebook as the professor changed the slide.

            He muttered, “Not sure I can get online later.”

            “Use the library. That’s my plan.”

            Ian glanced at her, but she was still staring straight ahead. “Thanks,” he said, dropping his pen.

            “Still don’t want the coffee?” she asked, picking it up and shaking it.

            He shook his head.

             She shrugged and took her first sip of it, not even flinching at the heat. As if sensing him watching her, she looked over with a smile and said, “I’m Mandy.” Then she added, “And I have a boyfriend, perv.”

            Ian tried not to laugh as he looked down at his notebook. “Ian,” he replied. “And sorry.”

            She shook her head, her long hair moving with the motion, and smiled slightly. Ian resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Lip would’ve been halfway in love with her already. And probably would have done something to warrant the “I have a boyfriend” statement. Ian, on the other hand, was just surprised to have found someone else who didn’t have easy access to internet at home.

            He was even more surprised that someone with no access to internet had gotten to class in time. And had time to get coffee.

            They sat in silence for the rest of class. Mandy filled the first page of her notebook with doodles while Ian, despite himself, had tried to write down as much as he could of the lecture. It was all stuff he knew. AP Biology had covered all of it, but he still felt like he should have it written down, just in case.

            “Don’t forget to read the first and second chapters in preparation for the quiz on Monday,” the professor said before making a hand motion dismissing them all.

            “Quiz?” Ian asked.

            Mandy handed him a piece of paper with all the important dates colour-coded. She tapped Monday with her pen, where the quiz was indicated. “Also online,” she said. “So, in other words, this class will have you living in the library.” She sighed, annoyed.

            Ian pulled out his phone and took a picture of the schedule. Then, seeing the look on her face, said, “Thanks.”

            She picked up the paper, shaking her head, and stood up. She pulled her bag over one shoulder as Ian scrambled to stand so that he’d be out of her way. “So, umm,” he said as they headed out, still awkwardly beside each other, “what’s your major?”

            “This, unfortunately.”

            “Unfortunately?”

            She shrugged and, with a less threatening smile, added, “I wanted to go into nursing but... there’s no nursing here.”

            “Could’ve gone to U of C.”

            “Too close to home.”

            Ian looked away, swallowing the question that comment made him want to ask.

            Mandy answered it anyways. “My dad’s kinda a jackass and my brother got the idea of using university as a way to get out of the house. And U of C would’ve been too close to justify getting an apartment, so... here I am. In Psych.” She rolled her eyes.

            “I’d appreciate if you stopped insulting my major,” Ian said, trying to lighten the mood.

            She laughed, but it was forced. “Sorry.”

            “Don’t know if I can forgive you.”

            “Well, you should.”

            “Why?”

            “I work at the coffee shop on campus and, if you forgive me, I can give you free caffeine all year long.”

            “Tempting, but I’m gonna have to turn you down.”

            “What? You’re not one of those weird people whose against caffeine are you? Because then _I_ might not forgive _you_.”

            Ian laughed. “No, I’m not.”

            “Good. Then I’ll give you coffee in exchange for forgiveness,” she replied. “I work three to close, so whenever you’re done, come by and I’ll take my break.”

            Ian accepted and Mandy turned into the next building, waving as she walked backwards. He waved back, a sick feeling curling in the bottom of his stomach as he wondered if he could manage to order decaf without pissing her off. Maybe if he came really late and said he had an early class tomorrow.

            Polishing the excuse in his head, he made his way towards the library, intent on finishing today’s notes before his next class started in two hours.


	2. Chapter 2

Ian knocked on the closed glass door of the coffee shop. He shifted from foot to foot, feeling like he had epically fucked up, but not wanting to just let Mandy think he’d forgotten about her. Biting his bottom lip, he waited for her to walk across the darkened shop and press her face up against the glass.

            “I know I said ‘til close, but this is kinda fucking ridiculous.”

            “Sorry,” Ian replied. “I got distracted reading the textbook.”

            For a long moment she was silent, then she laughed. Stepping back from the door, she undid the locks and opened it, moving to the side so he could enter. She leaned against the door to close it and then said, “That’s probably the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

            “It’s true.”

            “I know it’s true. That’s why it’s so tragic.”

            Ian laughed as he stood awkwardly in the middle of the coffee shop. The tables and chairs and couches and lay-z-boys were 3D shadows in the muted light coming from the streetlights outside. The counter at the back was covered in shadow, just the metal edges of the different machines giving away their positions.

            “Take a seat,” Mandy said. “I can’t make you coffee now because everything’s clean and powered down, but you can hang out.”

            “Sure you don’t want me to help?”

            She was silent for a moment, twirling the broom in her hand. Then she shrugged and said, “There’s a bit of a spill behind the counter, but you don’t have to...” She trailed off as Ian started towards the back of the room, picking up a towel thrown over the counter on his way. As he bent down behind the counter, he heard her call, “While you’re back there if you’d turn all the can labels forward, that’d be nice.”

            Ian said nothing but moved from the spill to the coffee cans stacked under the counter smoothly. They worked in silence for a while before Ian heard Mandy sigh and plop down in one of the chairs. He peeked up over the counter and she smiled at him over the light of a cigarette. “Sit down with me.” She kicked out the chair across from her with her heel.

            He got up off the ground and headed over to sit across from her. She offered him the cigarette and he took it, the nicotine the only good drug he was allowed to have in his system. Well, _allowed_ might have been a strong word. He took a drag and then offered it back to her, but she shook her head.

            “Kenyatta calls any kind of saliva-to-saliva contact cheating.”

            Ian blew out smoke. “Kinda leaves a lot in the open.”

            She snorted. “Not really.”

            He heard her shoe drop to the floor and thought nothing of it until her foot brushed against the bottom of his jeans. Looking up at her, her expression hadn’t changed, and she said, “You know, you didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to. I would’ve understood.”

            He shrugged. “I wanted to come. Just, the textbook-”

            “Is so damn interesting.”

            “Fuck off.”

            Mandy bit her lips together immediately, despite the fact that Ian was laughing. He stopped, his face falling, and said, “You know, Kenyatta sorta sounds like a jerk.”

            She snorted. “You have no idea.”

            “Then why’re you with him?”

            She shrugged, her blue eyes falling to the table. Her fingers itched for a cigarette, but she made no move to light another. Ian offered her his again and she took it, but didn’t put it to her lips. She turned the tip into her hand in such a way that Ian couldn’t quite tell whether or not it was burning her. He swallowed.

            “I know what it’s like,” he said. She still didn’t look at him. “Dating jerks. Guys that... don’t actually give a shit about you past what you do in the bedroom. And maybe they pretend to, but you know somewhere deep down that it’s all lies. And you never really want to confront them about it.”

            Mandy looked up finally, her blue eyes darker in the filtered light. “You’re gay?” she asked.

            Ian blinked and his stomach curled. He’d forgotten for a second that she’d grown up in Chicago too, also in a poor part of town, probably even in a bad neighbourhood judging by how she jumped and stuck with guys who treated her like shit. He’d forgotten for a second that he wasn’t supposed to tell strangers he was gay until he was sure about them. But he’d already done it.

            Licking his lips, he said, “Yeah.” Then, after only the slightest pause, he added, “Is that a problem?”

            Her eyes widened and she sat up a little straighter. Ian realized her foot had dropped off his leg. “No,” she said quickly. “God no. It’s not a problem. My brother’s gay.”

            Ian couldn’t help but laugh. “You know that’s equivalent to saying, ‘of course I’m not homophobic, I have that one gay friend’?”

            She smiled. “I do have ‘that one gay friend’. You.”

            “Only a day and I’m late to the first time we hang out and we’re already friends?”

            “Yeah, why not?”

            He stared at her for a second. “Well, I could be a sociopath or a serial killer.”

            “But you’re a sociopath or a serial killer who treats me pretty good,” she replied, “and I’ve called people a lot more who’ve treated me a lot worse.”

            Ian was silent for a second and then he grabbed her hands across the table. “You don’t have to let guys treat you badly.”

            Rolling her eyes, she pulled back her hands and got to her feet. She grabbed the broom and said, “Now you sound like my brother.”

            “Your brother sounds smart.”

            “My brother was on the waitlist and got into this school by blackmailing the Dean of Admissions.” Ian laughed but she gave him a look. “Not a joke. And, by the way, I fucking know that I don’t have to let guys treat me this way. I just naturally make really shitty decisions.”

            Ian forced himself to smile and then stood. “I should go.”

            “You don’t have to.”

            “I do,” he replied, checking his wrist for a time that wasn’t there. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “My sister’s gonna be worried about me and my brother’s probably going to think I took a bus all the way to the next state so...” He shrugged. “You want me to wait and walk you out of here?”

            She shook her head. “Mick’s gonna be by soon.”

            “Your brother?”

            She nodded.

            Ian hesitated only a second longer before saying goodbye and walking out of the coffee shop. The bell rung as he went and the sound echoed into the night air, mixing with his footsteps on the silent concrete. The dark air held the fresh cold of fall and he began to think for the first time that maybe, just maybe, going here hadn’t been a terrible mistake.


	3. Chapter 3

Sitting at the breakfast table, Ian stirred his spoon through soggy cereal as he chewed. Debbie was giving him a run down on her first day, from the new guys to her friends’ summers to her new teachers. She finished with a smile, dropping her hands in order to take a bite of her strawberry jam-covered toast.

            _“What about the new interpreter?”_ Ian signed.

            She shrugged.

            _“What’s that mean?”_

            Dropping the toast, she replied, _“He’s cute.”_

            Ian rolled his eyes. “ _But how is he? Is he nice to you? Does he keep up with the teachers well?”_

_“Yes.”_

            Ian stared at her for a moment longer and then dropped the topic. It was hard to get Debbie to talk about serious things when her face was lit up like that. A goofy smile on her lips was all it took for Ian to know that the new interpreter was more than just “cute” and that Debbie probably didn’t even see a word he said.

            Fiona flounced down the stairs, her eye mask still on her forehead and said, “Hey, Ian, think you could come home at a decent time tonight?”

            Ian swallowed his cereal and waited until Fiona looked at him. He signed back, _“I’m sorry.”_

            Glancing at Debbie, Fiona signed, “ _You were two hours late on your pills.”_

            _“Won’t happen again.”_

_“You take ‘em this morning?”_

            Ian raised the plastic tin to show her Thursday’s a.m. box, empty. She smiled weakly and then turned to make herself breakfast. Debbie had ignored the whole exchange, her eyes on the newspaper in front of her, reading the comics. Ian stared at her until she looked up at him, one eyebrow raised.

            _“You okay around here without me?”_

            She rolled her eyes and neglected to reply.

            Fiona hit the counter hard and Ian turned to look at her. She signed, _“You’ve got a shift this morning.”_

            Ian checked the clock, swore, and got up from his seat. He kissed Debbie on the head, wished her good luck at school, and was out the door. It was too cold outside for him to be out in just a t-shirt, but he didn’t have time to go back for a coat. Blowing on his hands, he headed down the street at a fast pace, counting the seconds in his head until he would be late for work. Being late was slowly becoming the theme of the week.

            He barrelled through the backdoor of Patsy’s Pies and nodded hello to the chef. The chef glanced at the clock and said, “You better run.”

            With a smile, Ian turned into the storage room and headed over to the time clock. He punched his card –only thirty seconds late– and grabbed an apron from the hook on the wall. He got to his sink just as another set of dishes banged down beside it and started the water, burning hot.

            Every time anyone came by to take his shift, they always commented on the fact that the water was too hot. Within minutes it had rubbed Ian’s skin raw. But the pain was a small thrill for him, like the touch of a cigarette against his tongue, and dry skin was a small price to pay for a moment where his heart felt like it needed to be beating in his chest.

            With the dishes cleaned, he came around from the back and started to walk around the diner, pulling dishes off of the tables. The bell above the door rang and Ian looked up to see Karen walking through it, her toddler on her hip despite the fact that Hymie was struggling to get down.

            Ian walked up behind her as she slid onto a stool at the counter and said, “Hi.”

            She looked up with a small smile. “Hey,” she said, setting Hymie down on the stool beside her. He stopped moving immediately, frozen by the distance between him and the ground, and a second later started crying. Karen didn’t seem to notice. “How’s your brother doing?”

            Ian shrugged. “Don’t know. He won’t be back until the weekend.”

            “Right.”

            Ian moved around the counter, setting the box of dishes down, and pulled a piece of pie out from under the glass case. He slid it in front of Hymie and ruffled the kid’s black hair. “He doing all right?” Ian asked.

            Karen shrugged. “Don’t know. His dad’s picking him up in half an hour.”

            “That’s for the best.”

            She glared at him, but didn’t defend herself. With a smile, Ian disappeared into the back with his dishes, going back to the steaming water. Seeing Hymie always made him think of Debbie and he glanced at the clock again, wondering exactly how much time he would have between the end of his shift and the start of his classes and if he could get to Debbie’s school during that time.

            He couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t.

            But he did it anyways.

***

            The high school seemed smaller now that Ian no longer went there. The hallways were empty, narrow, and had the odd quality of echoing with every step that Ian took. He had a crumpled printout of Debbie’s schedule in his hand –the one she had thrown in the trash yesterday after having claimed she memorized the whole thing already.

            Ian checked the clock again. He had an hour until his first class of the day started. It took fifty minutes for the bus, five minutes to get to the bus from here... he wasn’t going to make it. So, resigning himself to entering yet another class late, he headed down the high school hallways, navigating them effortlessly and stopped just short of Debbie’s English class.

            He crept up to the door, peeking through it sideways to look up at the front of the room. He could see Debbie in the first row, her red hair a beacon set against the green blackboard. A female teacher stood to one side, annoyingly speaking with her hands and tapping the board repeatedly. At least when the other kids winced at the sound, Debbie was mercifully spared.

            And off to the side of the blackboard, leaning against the wall, was the interpreter. Ian had to agree that the guy was hot. Mid to late twenties, brown hair, and glittering eyes, he had an odd half-smile that added a sarcastic edge to everything that he signed. He also seemed to be adding jokes in during the teacher’s pauses, causing Debbie to hold her hand over her mouth.

            It irked Ian. His easy nature. It was his sister’s education on the line after all. Not just this guy’s day job. He checked the clock again. He really couldn’t afford to wait for the class to let out to have a conversation with the guy, so he made a mental note to do so, and then turned out of the high school at a run, trying to make the next bus and knowing that he wouldn’t.


	4. Chapter 4

The door to Ian’s first class had been locked, so he spent most of the day in the library, waiting for his second class to start. Fiona texted him, reminding him that she would have dinner saved for him after his last class and that his second round of pills were waiting for him too. He ignored her, letting the read receipt tell her she was being a little too overbearing.

            Then, thinking better of it, he texted back asking her to speak with Debbie’s interpreter about his jokes. She said she would.

            Feeling slightly better, if still crappy about missing his first class, Ian walked out of the library with plenty of time to get to his last lecture. It was a History class, focusing on the first half of the twentieth century. Already he was dreading the fact that he had signed up for it at night and wasn’t allowed caffeine.

            When he got there, the room was empty, so he took a seat in the second last row, off to the right of the classroom. He pulled his notebook from his bag and a pen, pulling off the cap with his teeth. The door to the classroom opened as he did so, and he looked up to see another guy coming into the room.

            As soon as their eyes met, the guy looked away, his smile fading immediately. But Ian kept staring at him, intrigued by the blue in his eyes. The guy sat down in the second row from the front, near the left of the room. He dropped his army green bag and pens, notebooks, textbooks, and a phone slipped out. He shoved it all back in his bag, dropped the bag on the floor, and leaned back on the hind legs of the plastic and metal chair.

            Ian forced himself to look away, ignoring the awkward silence of the room. It wasn’t really like he could break it. The guy had made a point of sitting as far away from Ian as possible without sitting in the front row. And from the line of black tattoos across the guy’s fingers and the holes dotting his jeans, Ian got the sense that he wasn’t exactly a front row sort of guy. He didn’t actually seem like a university-level-class kind of guy, either.

            And yet Ian kept glancing at him. At least the guy didn’t seem to notice. Maybe it was because every one of Ian’s glances were short. Or maybe it was because Ian was trying really hard not to look at him. He fixed his eyes on the paper in front of him and started to aggressively doodle stick figures.

            He was relieved when the next person entered the room. And then another and another until the room was brimming with people and their noise. Ian felt like he could finally breathe, no longer threatened by the thug sitting far away from him. Because that’s what Ian decided he was going to name the tight feeling in his chest. He felt threatened.

            By a guy half his height that really didn’t look any worse than any other thug he had grown up next to.

            Someone raised his voice and Ian looked up. The guy was standing next to the tattooed thug, but the thug didn’t look up until the guy bumped his chair. Then, quickly, he set his chair down and shoved it in to let the guy pass. But his quickness didn’t come without a look of disgust, like the guy was purposefully bothering him and it was a horrible inconvenience for him to move his chair.

            Ian shook his head, going back to his notebook. A girl sat on his left and a guy on his right. Neither of them seemed interested in speaking to him. And when the room was almost full, the professor walked into the classroom and threw his briefcase onto the desk at the front. He smiled at the class, his teeth blindingly white against his dark brown skin.

            “Welcome to History of 1900-1945,” he said, his voice thick, his lips smacking around the words that were foreign to him. His words came out in a rush, as if he was trying to make up for his mispronunciation by hiding it. “Before we get started, I’d like everyone to turn to the person beside them and introduce themselves.”

            A general hubbub of noise started up in the classroom. Ian smiled at the two people beside him but forgot their names almost as soon as they said them. He was trying to get the name of the thug across the room but, of course, the guy was ignoring the people on both sides of him, shooting them glares if they tried to speak to him.

            The noise died down quickly. You could ask a group of teenagers to introduce themselves, but getting them to talk past that point was like asking a crocodile to juggle. Everyone went back to staring at the professor, who smiled at them nervously. He flipped through some of his notes before speaking again.

            “Right, well, I am Professor Dhawan,” he said, pronouncing it duh-wuhn. He swallowed nervously. “I will be teaching you this class and, hopefully, many more classes in the years to come. I have a course outline here to, uh, hand out.”

            He gave a stack of them to the first person in the front row and waited patiently as the sheet went around the room. The stack took a few minutes to get back to Ian and he stared at his paper for a while, reading all the important dates and mentally trying to line them up with the Psychology dates. And the dates for his Math class. And even the English class he had missed that afternoon.

            As he was doing so, the professor kept talking, pointing out different sections. Ian read ahead, but kept listening to what he was saying, jotting down notes as he went. He easily adjusted to the accent, missing a few words, but filling them in of his own accord. Frank was always bringing people through the house who couldn’t speak English too well, calling them ‘cousins’ or ‘friends’ and then trying to get them to rent rooms in the packed house.

            The professor clapped his hands a half hour later and said, “Okay. So, we take a short break now and then get to the real work, yes?”

            Everyone moved immediately. Ian shuffled in his chair, letting people pass him to get into the hallway. He checked his phone for the time and bit back a sigh knowing the class had another forty-five minutes left. He glanced absently towards the thug and blinked.

            The guy was looking around in thinly veiled confusion. After a moment though, he looked at the notebook in front of him and tapped his pen on the page. A couple of times he crossed out a word or rewrote it or looked like he was drawing a question mark beside a sentence. His eyes glanced over towards the course sheet and he started to read it, like he didn’t know they had already done that.

            The noise of the room didn’t seem to bother him in the least. Apparently, without it being forced, it was easy to get teenagers to talk to each other. But the thug didn’t seem to care at all. He read diligently, as if there was nothing to distract him from the words.

            The professor called the class back to order a few minutes later and a few people had shuffled seats to be next to friends they hadn’t noticed before. Ian shifted over a seat, allowing another girl to sit with the one to his left. The guy on his right had moved back a row to sit with an old high school friend of his.

            Dr. Dhawan had projected slides onto a screen at the front of the room and was ready to start. There were no words on the screen, just pictures that vaguely related to what he was talking about. The first slide had a title: Important Pre-1900 Events. Ian wrote that down before the slide changed and then all his notes had to come from the professor’s mixed and muddled words.

            A few minutes later his eyes wandered to the thug. He was staring at the professor, his eyes squinted slightly, and his pen motionless against the page. His lips moved, as if he were repeating the professor’s words or, at least, trying to.

            Ian’s focus on the lecture dwindled as he watched the other boy struggle with the professor’s words. True, there were points where it was hard to decipher what he was saying, but the thug was writing nothing at all. He seemed to be trying out the words on his own lips, as if somehow that would help him put the sentences together.

            Twenty minutes in he gave up.

            Ian went back to taking notes, cursing himself silently for missing so many of them while watching the guy. He took notes furiously for the last twenty minutes and then waited when the class let out. He followed after the thug, his backpack swinging off one shoulder and his notebook clutched tight to his chest. He waited until they turned down a relatively empty hall before speeding up and tapping the guy on the shoulder.

            He whipped around, blue eyes deadly as falling icicles. Raising a black eyebrow, he asked a silent and threatening question: _What the fuck do you want?_

            Ian swallowed, feeling his heart beat hard against his rib cage. His fingers tingled from where he’d touched him. Quickly, he signed, _“Are you having trouble with the professor’s accent?”_

            The thug stared at him and, for a moment, Ian thought he had misjudged him. But understanding glinted in his blue eyes, so he pushed, saying, _“There’s a student disabilities office two buildings over. If you want, I can go over with you and interpret so you can get an interpreter?”_

            For a second, the thug had no reaction. Then he snorted. _“Fuck off.”_

            Ian blinked, startled still for just long enough to allow the guy to disappear down the hallway. Then anger curled in the pit of his stomach and he let out a bitter huff. If the guy didn’t want help, he didn’t need to get help. Fuck him.

            But even as Ian turned away, his head was still full of thoughts of him.


	5. Chapter 5

Ian managed to get to Psych class on time the next morning and slid into the same seat he had occupied on the first day. He got everything out and ready, stretching his fingers to prepare for the teacher’s insane speed and waited for Mandy.

            She never came.

            He looked around the class, but with three hundred people it was impossible to tell if she was sitting somewhere else. The professor started up the class and he started to write notes, quickly forgetting that Mandy should’ve been there.

            The end of class came far too quickly and he stood from his seat, remembering Mandy like someone had hit him in the back of the head with it. He had a few hours between classes, so he headed over to the campus coffee shop to see if she was there. And, sure enough, she was just tying the strings on her apron when he walked through the front door.

            She smiled at him and he walked over. “No time between class and work?” he asked.

            “Slept through my alarm,” she replied.

            “So better to skip class altogether than come in late?”

            “Well, I didn’t want to look like a sleep-deprived asshole with chronic lateness.”

            He smiled. “Tell me next time?”

            “Don’t have your number.”

            She moved behind the counter and he pulled out his phone, handing it to her over the row of coffee machines. She quickly typed in her number, handed the phone back to him, and then pulled out her own phone waiting for him to text her. He did and she added the number to her contacts before shoving her phone back into the pocket of her apron.

            Pausing behind the cash register, she looked up at him and said, “Unless you’re ordering coffee, you have to get out of line.”

            “Right.” Ian was silent for a moment as he looked up at the menu. “You serve decaf?”

            She gave him a look, but rung it up all the same. “For someone whose in serious need of some caffeine, you sure hate the stuff.”

            Ian shrugged and dropped a handful of change on the counter. She separated and counted it easily, like she had been doing it her whole life. Swiping it off the counter, she dumped it in the cash register and then pulled the receipt from the dispenser, holding it out to Ian. He took it and she wiped at her eyes tiredly, smudging some of her foundation.

            Blinking, Ian asked, “Are you okay?”

            “Yeah, why?”

            He glanced again at where the foundation had smudged and the small tint of purple showing beneath it. He hesitated, reminding himself that it could just be dark circles or a trick of the light or a thousand other things. Mandy raised an eyebrow at him over her searing blue eyes.

            He shook his head. “No reason.”

            Moving over to the receiving line, he watched as she smiled at the next customer. Then, closing his eyes, he tried to remember if he had taken his anti-psychotic that morning. The paranoia was annoyingly familiar. He checked the time again. Four hours until his next class. Six hours until the therapist.

            He took his coffee when he was called and went to sit down at one of the tables. Pulling out his Psych textbook, he started the second chapter he was supposed to read before the quiz. The alarm on his phone went off before he was finished and he packed up his table, getting ready to head out the door.

            “Hey.”

            Ian looked up to see Mandy leaning over the table, his empty coffee cup in her hand.

            “You doing anything tonight?”

            “I’m free after six.”

            “Wanna watch a movie or something?”

            “Your boyfriend won’t be jealous?”

            She shrugged. “He’s outta town.”

            “Sure,” he said. She smiled and walked away. Ian zipped up his bag and headed off to his Math class.

***

            Ian double-checked the address Mandy had texted him as he stood in front of the sliding metal door. The entire building was falling apart. Five floors, a mix of concrete and brick walls, connected by outdoor walkways made of metal that high heels could easily slip through. Which was the reason, Ian supposed, that the few prostitutes he had seen walking up the stairs had had their heels in their hands.

            Licking his lips, he knocked on the heavy metal door. It rattled under his hand, its hinges shuddering against the pressure. Then, just to be sure, he texted Mandy, “I’m here.”

            She opened the door a minute later. Her heavy make-up gone, she looked years younger than she had in class. She was wearing loose grey sweatpants and a tight black tank top with no socks. “Hey,” she said, forcing a smile. She slid the door to the side to let Ian in and then slammed it behind him.

            The inside of the apartment looked better than the outside. The walls were still clearly concrete, but someone had taken the time to paint them white with long, uneven strokes. There was a small kitchen to the right –galley style, despite the fact that it was open to the rest of the room. The tops of the laminated counters were clean but the white wooden cabinets were scarred. To Ian’s left, a small living room complete with a leather loveseat and matching armchair stood facing a small, boxy TV with rabbit ears on top. Three doors led out of the small room and all were closed.

            “There’s a horror movie marathon on the news channel,” Mandy was saying as she walked over to the TV. She pressed a button to turn it on and started to fiddle with the antenna. “I guess it’s to like, warn parents what the Halloween marathon is going to be like, to make sure their kids are ready for it, you know?”

            “Yeah,” Ian replied.

            She looked over her shoulder. “Wanna grab beer from the fridge?”

            “Umm...” Ian scratched the back of his neck.

            “Or you can grab me beer and get whatever the hell you want,” she said, watching him carefully. “Not sure what else we have though.”

            Ian nodded and headed over to the fridge. The big white door stuck and he pulled until it popped open, swinging far enough to hit the wall. Ian winced and then looked into the empty space. Exactly three things sat on the otherwise bare shelves: beer, orange juice, and what looked like it might have once been deli meat. Ian checked the label. Chicken, apparently.

            He pulled one of the beer bottles out and then closed the door. The front of it was adorned with random magnets –different businesses and their numbers– and one faded picture. Ian smiled at the sight of Mandy, a couple years younger than she was now, laughing at the camera as a guy gave her a noogie.

            With a fist that had black letters tattooed across the knuckles.

            “This is your brother?” Ian asked.

            Mandy turned to him and, abandoning the TV, walked over to look at the picture. She leaned back against the counter to stare at it, twisting the top off the beer as she did so, and said, “Yeah. One of ‘em, anyways. Mickey.”

            “He’s deaf?”

            Her eyes shot towards him, shocked. Then, with an uncomfortable sort of shrug she turned away from Ian and said, “Yeah.”

            An awkward silence spread through the room. Ian glanced back at the picture of the boy. “You know it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

            “Yeah, I know,” she replied. She sat down on the couch, staring at the still slightly fuzzy screen where a woman was screaming statically. “Just... he doesn’t really know that. You know?” She glanced back at Ian and the sadness in her eyes turned to curiosity. “How do you know that anyways?”

            “He’s in one of my classes.”

            “Still.”

            Ian sighed. “The professor has a really heavy accent and I noticed him reading lips. I offered to help him talk to the disability people, you know, get an interpreter in the room for him, but he told me to fuck off.”

            Mandy laughed around the top of the beer bottle. “Sounds like him.”

            “He really should get someone in there to help him.”

            “I’ve told him that a thousand times,” she replied. “But he only has two other classes and he sits near the front and reads the teachers’ lips and hasn’t had any problems with it. Other than the fact that his notes are never actually on the lines because he never looks down. He won’t accept an interpreter or even a note taker and...” She shook her head. “I’ve had this argument a hundred times and its only been three days. You’re not gonna get him to budge.”

            Ian nodded, letting the conversation fall into silence. Mandy turned up the volume on the TV and Ian rummaged through the cabinets to find a glass. He filled it with water and went to sit beside Mandy on the couch. She threw half a threadbare blanket over his legs and the two of them sat side by side, watching bad black and white horror movies until Fiona texted Ian, telling him to come home.


	6. Chapter 6

            The sun coming through the curtains of Ian’s room woke him. That and the sound of Liam’s bed springs protesting against him jumping on them. Rolling out of bed, Ian rubbed his eyes and walked over to where Liam’s bed was, plucking him out of the air as he jumped and setting him down on the ground.

            Ian kneeled in front of him. “Buddy, you’re gonna break the bed.”

            “Lip said I could.”

            “Lip’s an idiot.”

            Liam laughed and Ian lightly spanked him, sending him running out of the room. Shaking his head, Ian pulled on a t-shirt and went downstairs in his boxers, yawning. He was immensely glad to have been able to sleep in, but now the whole world was oddly fuzzy and he stumbled on the steps he had been walking down his whole life.

            Fiona was at the stove, flipping pancakes and giving away plates like she was working at a soup kitchen. Ian kissed her on the forehead and leaned against the counter as Carl scurried away, a plate piled high with five pancakes in his hands.

            “How’d your first week go?” she asked.

            “Good,” he replied.

            Fiona rolled her eyes. “You’re still going to go with teenage one word answers?”

            Ian shrugged. “Still a teenager.”

            He took the plate she handed him with a smile and grabbed his pills on his way to the breakfast table. He sat down across from Lip and said, “Don’t tell Liam he can jump on the bed. That thing’s at least a decade older than he is.”

            “Carl used to jump on it all the time.”

            “Which is why I’m afraid it’s gonna collapse.”

            Lip shrugged. “Had to give him something to do. He woke up at five in the morning and ran down the halls screaming bloody murder.”

            Ian grunted. “I thought that was a nightmare.”

            Lip laughed as he bit into a pancake, neglecting to use utensils and getting syrup all over his fingers. Ian took the syrup and drowned his pancakes in it, then picked up a fork and knife like a decent human being.

            As he was eating, he asked, “Have you spoken with Debbie’s interpreter yet?”

            There was a moment of silence and then Fiona asked, “Adam? Yeah. Nice guy.”

            Ian waited. “And you told him to stop with the jokes?”

            “He’s just trying to get her to have a little fun.”

            “It’s school,” Ian replied, turning around in his seat. “She shouldn’t be having fun. She should be learning.”

            “And she is learning,” Fiona replied without looking up from the pancakes. “He keeps up with the teacher, gets in all the information, and just spices it up a little. He’s a smart guy. He knows what he’s doing.”

            Ian stared at her for a moment and sighed. “Don’t tell me you think he’s hot too.”

             She made a dismissive sound, but Ian wasn’t buying it.

            “This is about Debbie’s education,” Ian snapped. “He should not be flirting with a fifteen year-old while he’s supposed to be helping her learn. Either you tell him to stick to the fucking script or I will.”

            “Would you calm down? She likes him. She hates all her interpreters.” Fiona flipped the last pancake and piled it onto a plate. She looked at Ian. “He’s doing what he’s supposed to be doing. I was very clear with him.”

            “Were you?”

            She sighed. “Yes.”

            Ian stared at her a moment longer, sighed, and said, “Fine.”

            He stuffed more pancakes into his mouth as Fiona set down the last plate beside him and headed upstairs to wake Debbie. He chewed in silence for a while before he noticed Lip staring at him.

            “What?” Ian asked, his mouth full.

            “She’s doing fine,” Lip replied. “Nothing’s gonna fall apart without you.”

            “It did last year.”

            Lip swallowed, his eyes darting down to his empty plate. “This is different,” he said. “You’re still... here and she knows that.” Ian said nothing and Lip slapped him on the shoulder. “Hey. Buck up. It wasn’t your fault.”

            Shrugging, Ian went back to eating and, after a moment, Lip got up to start the dishes. As soon as he was sure no one was paying attention to him, Ian silently set his utensils down and ran his hands through his hair. For a moment, it was hard to breathe through the overwhelming pressure bearing down on him.

            Because it was his fault.

            He swallowed his pills.


	7. Chapter 7

Ian arrived at his second History class slightly less early than he had before. Something about the rush of making it to English on time had lessened his desire to get to History super early and before everyone else.

            There were only three people in the room when he entered and one of them was Mickey. His eyes went straight to him, sitting in the front row this time, tapping his pen nervously against the metal rungs of his notebook with no idea how awful it sounded.

            Ian stood in the doorway staring at him for a little too long. Mickey didn’t want help. Both he and his sister had made that perfectly clear. Still, Ian hated the thought of spending another class watching the guy struggle to make sense of the lecture. _I could just not watch him,_ Ian thought, but somehow he knew that wasn’t going to happen.

            With a sigh, he walked into the room and took the seat to Mickey’s left. Mickey glanced up at him, blue eyes curious, but looked away almost immediately. Ian neglected to greet him, knowing it wouldn’t be received well. He took out his stuff and waited silently for the lecture to begin. It was a couple minutes before he noticed that Mickey had stopped tapping his pen.

            Mr. Dhawan came in when there were only a few seats left in the classroom, once again looking flustered. He got his slides up, a picture of a woman wearing pantaloons filling the screen, and got to organizing his notes. He watched the clock until it hit six and then greeted the class.

            Ian glanced at Mickey. He seemed to have recognized the greeting.

            Then the professor dove into the material, so quickly that for a moment even Ian had trouble keeping up with it. He was scrawling something down when he saw Mickey pause and run a hand across his mouth. With a quick glance at his notes, Ian dropped his pen and signed the rest of the sentence.

            Mickey caught the motion out of the corner of his eye and glanced over at Ian. Ian repeated what he had said and Mickey wrote it down. With a small smile, Ian went back to writing the lecture notes. A couple of minutes later Mickey glanced at him again and Ian quickly signed what the professor had just said.

            Mr. Dhawan took a break halfway through the class and Ian took a moment to stretch his fingers. He glanced over at Mickey, who was staring intently at his messy notes. Ian nudged his notebook against Mickey’s and his blue eyes glanced over at the page before he made a couple of changes. Nowhere near the number of changes he had made last week.

            _“I’m Ian,”_ he signed.

            Mickey looked at him for a long moment before replying, _“Mickey.”_

            _“I still think you should get a professional interpreter.”_

            And the conversation was done. Mickey looked back at his notebook and ignored Ian until the class came back. Mr. Dhawan started to talk again and, despite the bubble of annoyance in Ian’s stomach, he still signed for Mickey whenever the guy glanced towards him. He even tilted his notebook so it would be easier for Mickey to read off of it.

            Then Mr. Dhawan said something so quickly that none of the class caught it. Mickey looked over at Ian and Ian shrugged, defeated by the manner with which the professor dealt with his remedial English. Mr. Dhawan kept speaking without pausing so Ian continued to sign for Mickey, since his eyes were on Ian and not the professor.

            Mickey went back to attempting to read lips, despite the fact that it was near impossible. Ian’s notes struggled for his constant switching between writing and signing, but between the two of them, their notes were a hodgepodge of what they would need to know for the midterm.

            When the professor dismissed the class, Mickey got up without a word. Ian felt pain flare through his chest. He had expected a thank you. Or at least for Mickey to wait and fill in his notes a bit more. Or _something_ for the fact that he had just spent an entire class helping him for free when people got paid for doing that.

            He stalked out of the room, his bag in a disarray, and went after Mickey. This time he didn’t wait nearly as long before tapping him on the shoulder. Mickey turned, his curiosity becoming annoyance when he saw Ian.

            _“What? No thank you?”_ Ian signed.

            Mickey glanced around, looking for anyone watching them. Then focused his dark glare on Ian. _“Yeah, thanks, my knight in shining armour and all that shit,”_ he replied. _“You want me to bake you a cake too?”_

            Ian blinked. _“Do you at least want to share notes? Fill in the blanks a bit?”_

            Mickey rolled his eyes. _“Think I got most of it.”_

            _“But-”_

            _“Just leave me the fuck alone. I can take care of myself.”_

            Ian scoffed, his jaw dropping as Mickey walked away from him. Annoyance bubbled in his stomach and he shook his head, turning to walk the other way. He took out his phone, his anger tight in his stomach, and texted Mandy, _Your brother’s an asshole._

            A second later she replied, _Get used to it._

            Shaking his head, Ian pocketed his phone and resolved never, ever to help Mickey again.


	8. Chapter 8

Ian dropped into the seat next to Mandy in Psychology the next day. She glanced over at him, in the middle of writing a text message, and said, “You check your mark on the quiz yet?”

            “Yeah,” Ian replied as he dug through his bag. “Seventy.”

            Mandy let out a low whistle. Ian looked at her and she shrugged. “Forty-two.”

            “Read the textbook?”

            “Don’t have time.” She put down her phone and pursed her lips. “Any chance you’d help me out tonight? So I don’t fail the next one?”

            Ian hesitated a second but, knowing Mandy wasn’t her brother, said, “Sure. I have class until two-thirty, but I can swing by after?”

            “I work ‘til four,” she said. “But come by the coffee shop and Mickey can drive us both home.” Ian didn’t reply and she added, “I know he’s a jerk, but he’s not gonna like, purposely crash the car because he doesn’t like you.”

            “He doesn’t like me?” Ian asked. He smiled bitterly. “Never woulda guessed.”

            Mandy shrugged and then went back to her phone, effectively closing the conversation. Shaking his head, Ian stared down at the blank page of his notebook, inwardly fuming at the prospect of having to see Mickey again. But then class started and he calmed down, just chalking it up to one of many things he’d have to do that he didn’t want to.

***

            Mickey ignored the two of them the entire drive back to the apartment. The car was an old clunker, its beige doors rusting and its frame bouncing against the ill-fitting tires. It coughed and sputtered the whole way there, but Ian doubted that bothered Mickey at all. He wondered if anyone had even told him that his car sounded like a dying cat.

            Mandy and Ian followed Mickey up the stairs. He leapt up them two at a time and then banged open the apartment door, leaving it to slide back on its own momentum. Ian caught the door and shoved it open just as he heard Mickey’s door slam. Mandy walked past him into the apartment.

            “I bet he wanted to crash the car,” Ian said.

            “Maybe if I wasn’t there,” Mandy replied, smiling.

            She slipped onto a stool at the counter and patted the one next to it, sending it wobbling. Ian closed the door behind him and slid onto the seat, pulling out his textbook and notebook as he did so. Mandy copied him and they both turned to the third chapter of the book, which was on next week’s quiz.

            “Okay, so, as far as I know, you can ignore everything in fancy coloured boxes,” Ian replied. “And, well, really, because the quizzes are online, you can check your answers in the textbook as you go.”

            “You cheated and only got a seventy?” she asked.

            “I was in a rush.”

            She stifled a smile and nodded, listening to Ian explain how to get through the textbook faster. He used his notes to emphasize the important points they had already covered and Mandy asked questions nervously, as if she was afraid they were dumb things to ask.

            Time passed quickly and before they were done the chapter, Mandy looked up at the clock and swore. She slid from the stool and said, “I have to go. I mean, get ready. Kenyatta’s coming to pick me up in ten. I’m sorry.”

            Ian shook his head. “It’s fine. I should probably get going.” He checked his phone and was surprised to see that he had no messages from Fiona wondering where the hell he was. He got off the stool and started packing his stuff as Mandy raced for her room. The door banged closed, rattling the walls of the house.

            A minute later Mickey came out of his room, yawning, and headed for the fridge. He glanced at Ian, gave him a once over, but otherwise ignored him. Ian tried to ignore the chill that ran through him.

            Mandy came out a moment later, her makeup retouched and wearing a slinky black dress. Mickey gave her a look and signed, _“You look like a fucking whore.”_

            She half-smiled at him. _“Thanks,”_ she signed, then flipped him off.

            A heavy knock sounded on the door and she stalked over to it, her heels clicking on the concrete floor. Ian slowed down in his packing, trying to give himself an excuse to take a look at her boyfriend. The metal door slid open to reveal a large black man on the other side, big enough to take up the entire frame. He wore a wife-beater and ill-fitting pants.

            “You ready?” he asked.

            Mandy nodded and he grabbed her by the arm, pulling her out into the hall. He nodded shortly at Mickey who gave him a two-fingered wave that quickly turned to just his middle finger as the door closed. Ian tried his best not to laugh as his mouth twisted into a smile.

            Zipping up his bag, he looked up at Mickey who was sipping a beer but otherwise not moving out of the kitchen. Ian knew he should just say goodbye and leave, but he found himself asking, _“Why do you let her go out with that guy?”_

            Mickey snorted. He set down the beer to reply, _“You really think I_ let _Mandy do anything?”_ Ian shrugged and swung his backpack over his shoulders. He was about to head for the door when he saw Mickey say, _“You can stay, if you want, and go over the History notes.”_

            Ian was frozen for a second as Mickey downed half his beer. Then he gave Ian a look, like _so what’re you gonna do?_ and Ian set his bag down. He started looking for his History notebook as Mickey headed back to his bedroom. A second later Mickey came out, notebook in hand, and slid onto the stool his sister had just left.

            Turning to his first page of notes, Ian shifted them so that Mickey was able to read them easily. The first couple of pages were just things Mickey had missed on the first day and then, after that, the two of them worked together, filling in each other’s blanks. Mickey went for another beer halfway through and offered one to Ian, who politely refused.

            _“You’re the weirdest college kid I know,”_ Mickey said.

            Ian smiled half-heartedly and shrugged, before tapping the open page of his notebook with the back of his pen. Twisting the cap off his beer, Mickey came around the counter swigging and started filling in the empty lines on his page.

            An hour later, with his notes filled, Ian stood up to go. Mickey hesitated, one foot on the ground, the rest of him resting against the stool, as Ian swung his bag over his shoulders. Ian caught his blue eyes staring and said, _“See you tomorrow?”_

            Mickey nodded and rested back on the stool.

            Their eyes locked and Ian lingered a little too long before pulling back from the counter. He could’ve sworn that he felt Mickey’s eyes on him the whole way to the door and, even with it closed behind him, the metal couldn’t stop the searing heat of those blue eyes.

            He rested against it for a moment, his mind swimming. He felt oddly electric on the patches of skin that Mickey had inadvertently brushed while they’d been sitting next to each other. With a heavy sigh, he pulled away from the door and forced himself to stop thinking about Mickey.

            That only worked until he reached the bus stop.


	9. Chapter 9

Ian worked tirelessly the next morning. One of the waitresses had failed to show up for her shift, so he was picking up orders when he could and giving Jackie –who was serving every table in the place– a break.

            He was coming around the side of the counter, a box of dishes in hand, when a customer sat down at the counter. Glancing up, he saw Jackie juggling three tables and ditched the dishes in favour of the customer. He pulled a pad from the pocket of his apron and asked, “What can I get for you?”

            “Are you Ian?”

            Looking up, he saw Debbie’s interpreter sitting in front of him. “Yeah,” he said. “And we’re kinda busy. You gonna order something?”

            “Umm...” Adam laughed a little before glancing down at the menu. “I’ll have the buttermilk pancakes and a cup of coffee.”

            “Good choice.”

            Ian turned to get the coffee and was annoyed when Adam kept talking.

            “Look, I know you wanted to talk to me before and Fiona tells me you’re really busy, so I thought that maybe this might be the best time for us to talk.”

            “If we weren’t down a waitress, I might agree with you.”

            “I don’t want you to be worried about your sister’s education. I do this for a living. I’ve gotten plenty of kids through high school and I’ll get your sister through it too. I have an education background, as well as a Masters in special needs services. I’m not just your run-of-the-mill interpreter. I know the material. I know what I’m doing.”

            Ian slid the coffee towards him. “Then why are you making jokes?”

            Adam blinked. “Lighten the mood. These classes get heavy and they get boring. And every high school student in the entire world just wants to rest their eyes for a second, but your sister can’t do that. So I try to make it a little less boring.”

            Silently, Ian stood in front of him and ripped the page with his order off of his notebook. Adam looked at him evenly, his dark brown eyes swirling like the coffee in front of him. Shortly, Ian said, “Cream? Sugar?”

            “Both.”

            Ian turned to get the thing of creamer and the bowl of sugar and put them both down in front of the interpreter. He tried to force himself to move from his place, knowing that he didn’t have the time to stand there and chat with him. Glancing towards Jackie, he saw her coming back to the counter and knew that, even if she wouldn’t say anything, she’d be annoyed that he wasn’t at least doing his own job. The dirty dishes still sat on the counter. A glaring health code violation.

            “I’m sure you’re very good at your job,” Ian said finally. He looked back at Adam and tried to give him his most threatening look, but the man seemed to have no sense of what the word “threatening” meant. He screamed trust-fund kid. The fact that he hadn’t shit his pants yet from being in this neighbourhood was actually quite the accomplishment. “But this is my little sister’s first year in high school and I come by and see you making jokes and, well, it doesn’t sit well with me.”

            “I understand that. But-”

            “But you just want to make things fun for her,” Ian cut in. He nodded. “And that’s great. But try to remember that she’s a teenage girl and you’re a very attractive man and it looks like you’re flirting.”

            Adam laughed. “I’m not hitting on your sister.”

            “Either of them?”

            He laughed again, but this time with a pinch of nervousness. He paused to sip his coffee, just long enough to come up with a lie. “Of course not,” he said. “That would be incredibly unprofessional of me. And I would hope that you think better of me than that.”

            Slowly, Ian nodded, even though he didn’t believe one word of it. “I’ll get those pancakes for you.”

            “Thanks,” Adam replied, unenthusiastically. Then he added, to Ian’s back, “And you can stop by any time to talk to me. Or call me. Fiona has the number.”

            Ian gave him a look as he turned back to pick up the plates and Adam scrambled to fix his misstep. Hearing none of it, Ian headed to the back of the diner and dumped the dishes off by the sink.

            He turned the water on hot, too hot, but perhaps a little less scalding than he usually liked it. He had enough going on in his head with Adam outside, babbling about how much he didn’t want to get into Fiona’s pants, and class tonight with Mickey where he had no idea where he stood, and somehow seeing Mandy tomorrow without mentioning the fact that her boyfriend was an asshole and she should dump him.

            The hot water just wasn’t needed right now.


	10. Chapter 10

“We should go to that,” Mandy said.

            Ian blinked and looked to her first, then the professor at the front of the room. Class had just started and, as usual, the professor was talking about something that had nothing to do with the lesson, so Ian wasn’t listening. The teacher’s laser pointer was circling chalk words on the blackboard under the projector screen. They were too far away for Ian to read it.

            “What is it?” he asked.

            “Midnight breakfast,” she replied and, when he gave her a look, added, “It’s an event that the school does every year. Kinda like a welcome back thing. Or a welcome here thing.” She swallowed her rambling like she was used to being cut off and then looked up at Ian. “We should go.”

            “Tonight?”

            “Tonight.”

            Ian stared at her. Her blue eyes matched her brother’s so perfectly that for a moment Ian wondered why he hadn’t seen it before the picture on the fridge. Licking his lips, he asked, “Mickey coming?”

            She snorted. “Get Mickey to go to a school event where he’ll be expected to talk to people and/or hear people talking to him?”

            “We could interpret.”

            “Have you met Mickey?”

            Smiling, Ian looked back down at his notebook as the professor started the lecture. But Mandy was still looking at him, her eyes narrowing curiously. Then, after a second, she said much too loudly, “Oh my god.”

            Ian glanced at her along with half of the people in the rows surrounding them. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question, still trying to focus on the lecture. It was hard enough getting the notes down without Mandy talking to him, but she was staring at him like he’d grown a second head.

            Lowering her voice slightly, she asked, “Do you... do you _like_ Mickey?”

            Ian rolled his eyes.

            “You do. You like him. You like my brother.” She shook her head. “That’s disgusting.”

            “Shut up.”

            “Oh my god,” she repeated, tapping her pen against her notebook. Ian tried to ignore her staring at him in favour of taking notes. She lowered her voice even more, until it was barely more than a whisper, and continued her questioning. “Wednesday when I left you there with him, did something happen?”

            Ian looked back at her, exasperated.

            “Well?”

            “Nothing happened.”

            “Something must have happened. You two hated each other two days ago.”

            Rolling his eyes, he dropped his pen. “Nothing happened. We shared our History notes. He drank. I tried to make awkward conversation and he would barely look at me. Happy?”

             “You’re a little bit of a masochist.”

            Ian laughed. “Fuck off.”

            “Seriously. You like a guy who hates your guts and is just generally an asshole.”

            Licking his lips, he made a move to change the subject. “Why don’t you get your boyfriend to take you to the breakfast thing?”

            Mandy immediately sobered and shrugged, looking back at her notebook. She started the outline of a heart on the side of the page as she said, “He won’t want to come to a stupid school event.”

            “He won’t be mad if I take you?”

            She shrugged again, letting the silence play out uncomfortably between them. After a few minutes, she said, “He won’t know. He’s out of town for the next few days and as long as I don’t have a hickey or anything, he won’t care to ask what I’ve been up to.”

            Ian stared at her for a little too long before making yet another bad decision in bringing up topics that the Milkoviches didn’t want to talk about. “You know you don’t have to let him treat you this way,” Ian said. “You’re worth more than that.”

            Rolling her eyes, Mandy looked over at him with the kind of look that made him feel like he had just said the most childish thing in the entire world. “I know how guys are supposed to treat me, all right? And I also know how I deserve to be treated,” she said. She was silent for a long moment and then added, “I’ll just go to the breakfast alone. It’s fine.”

            He stared at her for a long moment before biting back a sigh. “No. Come on. Let me take you.”

            She looked up from her notebook with a smile. “Really?”

            “Could be fun.”

            Smiling, she said, “Pick me up at eleven-thirty?”

            He nodded.


	11. Chapter 11

Ian yawned as he reached out to knock on the big metal door. He had tried to take a nap before coming, but that had just left him groggy and sweaty in the darkness. Looking down at his outfit, he adjusted the hem of his green shirt nervously and stretched out his arms in his leather jacket. The outfit looked stupid. Not good. Not sexy. Not something that would make Mickey want him.

            He let out a sigh just as the door rumbled open and quickly bit down on the sound. Mickey stood there and looked him up and down, not in an interested manner, and then stepped back into the apartment. He signed, _“She’s still getting ready.”_

            Hesitating by the door for a moment, Ian checked his phone before stepping into the apartment. Then he hesitated a second longer before closing the big metal door with a bang and wincing at the sound it made. When he looked up, Mickey was giving him a weird look, like he had some sort of disease or deformity.

            Ian forced himself to breathe and signed _, “How’s the studying going?”_

            For a moment, Mickey only looked more confused. Then he replied, _“Fine.”_

            Their conversation dropped quickly and Mickey turned into the kitchen. He pulled a beer from the fridge and didn’t offer one to Ian. Which was a good thing because with his nerves as badly shot as they were, Ian just might have accepted.

            He wandered further into the apartment and took a seat on one of the stools, trying not to stare at Mickey as he sipped his beer. Ian tapped his fingers against the counter top, stopped realizing the sound must be annoying, and then started up again when he remembered Mickey couldn’t hear him. Then he stopped again when he realized that Mickey’s hand was on the counter and he could _feel_ the sound Ian was making.

            Ian glanced towards Mandy’s closed door, desperate to get out of the apartment. He had no idea what was wrong with him. He hadn’t felt this way around a guy since he was thirteen and had his first crush on Fiona’s motorcycle-riding, leather-wearing boyfriend. He glanced towards Mickey’s knuckles. Okay. So maybe he had always had a thing for bad boys who gave zero shits about him.

            Mickey made a sign that Ian only caught out of the corner of his eye. Probably _“hey”._ Ian swallowed his nerves as he glanced back at Mickey, wondering if Mandy had told her brother anything about what he had said that morning. Judging by the serious look in Mickey’s blue eyes, she just might have.

            Ian had never wanted to die more than in that moment.

            _“I need to talk to you about something,”_ Mickey said. Ian nodded slightly, praying to just vanish into thin air. Praying for an untimely and gruesome death. _“That’s my little sister in there.”_

            Ian blinked, confused.

            _“Now she’s been through a lot. And she’s got this boyfriend that doesn’t hesitate to throw her around like his favourite punching bag. And for some dumbass reason she’s thinks that it’s a good idea to go out on a date while he’s out of town. I don’t know what the hell made her think that, but I can’t stop her from going out with you and I can’t stop you from going out with her._

_“But here’s the thing, I’m not your friend. I’m not on your side in this. You can try to get all buddy-buddy with me and help me out in class and help me out with my notes, but I’m not gonna be your friend and I’m sure as hell not gonna like you. So, if you’re helping me out just to get in my sister’s pants, you can fuck off. And if you hurt her, I’m gonna fuck you up. Understood?”_

            For a long moment, Ian stared at Mickey, wondering if his grasp of sign language wasn’t as good as he thought it was. Because he could’ve sworn that Mickey had just told him not to hurt Mandy. Like he thought that Mandy and him were going on a date. Like he thought he had feelings for Mandy.

            And, when he was done replaying the conversation in his mind, he laughed. He put his hand to his mouth to stop himself, but the smile spreading across his lips was too big to hide at the snap of his fingers. He pursed his lips together, dropping his hand, and looked at Mickey, who seemed offended at Ian’s reaction.

            _“If anything, I’m hanging around her to get to you,”_ Ian replied.

            Mickey blinked and Ian couldn’t stop himself from laughing at the other boy’s shock.

            _“Don’t worry,”_ Ian said. _“I’m not going to hurt her, or give her boyfriend a reason to hit her, or even try to get in her pants. She’s perfectly safe with me.”_

            Mickey pursed his lips tightly and nodded. _“Whatever. Have fun.”_

            Then he walked away and slammed his bedroom door behind him, leaving Ian smiling at the kitchen counter. He could’ve sworn before Mickey turned around he had been blushing. So, when Mandy finally emerged from her room, dressed in jeans and a tight, sparkly purple top, he was still smiling like an idiot.

            “What?” Mandy asked, stopping halfway across the room. “Do I have lipstick on my teeth?”

            Ian shook his head and slipped off the stool. “Your brother thought we were going on a date.”

            For a moment, she just stared at him and then she burst out laughing. Her purse swinging off her shoulder, she headed over to the door with her keys in hand. “He give you his ‘big brother’ talk?”

            “Yup,” Ian said. “To be perfectly honest, I’m surprised that speech didn’t turn Kenyatta off.”

            Mandy was silent for a moment as she locked the door from the outside. Then she shrugged. “Mickey’s not an idiot,” she replied finally. “And he knows when he can’t win a fight. And when a fight’s worth winning.”

            Ian neglected to tell her that a fight with Kenyatta seemed to him like a fight pretty damn worth winning. They walked in silence to the bus stop, boarded the empty bus, and sat in the back staring out the windows.

            The streets blurred by in darkness and streetlamps. A few other people got on the bus and Ian shifted closer to Mandy, even though she gave him a questioning smile when he did so. They arrived at the university just before midnight and walked towards the Student Union Building, where the sound of pounding music was already heavy in the air.

            Soon enough the smell of breakfast food wafted through the air. Bacon, pancakes, waffles, sausages, and eggs were being cooked in a long line outside of the white building. Students were already piling into a line that was stretching around the building until at the end of it the blaring music was little more than an echo.

            Plastic tables were set up everywhere alongside the metal ones that were always there. The few people already eating were using paper plates and plastic utensils and failing miserably at not making a mess.

            Ian stood behind Mandy in line, watching everyone laugh and chat and listening to the sizzle of the bacon so far away. His stomach rumbled despite the late hour and Mandy looked back at him with a smile.

            “Glad you came?” she asked.

            “Depends how good the food is.”

            Her smile quirked up on one side and she turned around, shaking her head. The guy in front of her was looking back at her. He had the whole punk look down –graffitied jean jacket, black pants with chains, and spiky jet black hair. He smiled in a way that was half friendly and half sleazy. Ian shifted his stance slightly, suddenly on alert.

            The guy said, “You want a swig, gorgeous?” He held up a metal flask and shook it.

            Mandy took it without even asking what it was and shot back some of it. She swallowed without even wincing and then burped. The guy laughed, as if girls like her were some sort of a novelty. She went to hand it back to the guy but he asked, “Doesn’t your boyfriend want any?”

            She glanced back at Ian and then shook her head. “His dad’s an alcoholic.”

            The punk guy took his flask back and turned away, uninterested now that he thought she was taken. Mandy looked back at Ian and, seeing the odd look in his eyes, asked, “What?”

            “I just... how’d you know about my dad?”

            “I didn’t. I just... I needed to tell him something about why you weren’t drinking. Is that really why?”

            Ian nodded, despite the fact that that wasn’t the reason. Mandy grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Mine too,” she said.

            “Well, your brother certainly is.”

            She laughed. “You’re becoming one of those kids who wants to date their parent.”

            “Oh, god. Ew. Never say that.”

            She only laughed louder.

            The line moved slowly, winding around the building. People came up to them, offering various drugs and swigs of alcohol. And Ian tried his best to fade into the shadows and not look at what people offered him. To not itch at the thought of it.

            Mandy accepted the alcohol when it was proven that its owner’s had drunk it too but none of the drugs. By the time they got to the front of the line, she was giddy and Ian had his hands on her shoulders, just hoping to keep her upright long enough to get food in her.

            But as she piled food onto her plate and ate as she went, she sobered enough that Ian let go of her to fill his own plate. He was so focussed on the hot food, the closest thing to a drug he would let himself have, that he didn’t realize that Mandy had gotten away from him. And when he reached the end of the line, he had no idea where she was.


	12. Chapter 12

Ian tried to stem the panic rising in his chest. It was a school event. They had come to meet other people. Everyone was crowded around the tables and all the tables were right there. He had no reason to panic.

            He sat down with some kids and started eating. He was introduced but he forgot their names immediately and was no help with the conversation as he worried about Mandy. He tried to convince himself that she wasn’t his responsibility because she wasn’t his sister. But that didn’t work at all, because she was Mickey’s sister and his friend and was drunk somewhere in the middle of this wildly unsupervised party.

            After scarfing down his food, Ian got up despite his protesting stomach. He waved half-heartedly to his table but none of them seemed sad to see him go. Walking took effort with all that starch and syrup in his stomach. He wandered through the maze of tables, checking everyone who looked even remotely like Mandy even if they were wearing different clothes.

            He apologized to more people in half an hour than he had in his entire life.

            He was starting to panic again when someone came up from behind him and leaped onto his shoulders. As he stumbled forward, that same someone grabbed onto his arm to pull him back into equilibrium. Mandy’s laugh lit up the night and just hearing it made Ian forget to be mad.

            “Oh, thank god,” he said and pulled her into a hug. She struggled and he let go immediately. Her smile was bright across her face and she had a small battalion of boys following her, smiling along with her. “Where the hell’ve you been?”

            “Arrrrooouund,” she slurred, still laughing.

            Ian sniffed and smelled burning rope. “Are you high?”

            She giggled.

            “Fuck. Mandy.”

            She grabbed onto him, trying to pull him back into her new group of friends. “Come and join the real party, Ian.”

            “No, we have to-”

            “Oh, don’t be such a downer!”

            “Mandy,” he snapped. He grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him. The pain seemed to jog something sobering in her and while she still stumbled on her feet, her smile faded to little more than a ghostly smirk. Ian glared at the guys following her around. “Get out of here,” he said.

            A couple of them raised their hands in mock surrender. Most of them laughed. But all of them backed away, turning away from Mandy as their conversation and laughter bubbled through the air.

            Shaking his head, Ian pulled Mandy over to the nearest table and sat her down in an empty chair. The people there started to protest but then, seeing Mandy’s state, turned their conversations towards whispered judgements.

            Ian kneeled down before her. “Mandy. You okay?”

            She giggled. “Great.”

            “Great,” he replied, taking a deep breath. The last time he had been around someone so messed up he had been twice as messed up himself. And it dawned on him suddenly that he had never been on this side of the situation. He had never had to take care of anyone drunk or high or both. Fiona handled Frank. Fiona handled herself. Lip had the alcohol tolerance of a sixty year-old Irish man. And everyone else was too young to get screwed up just yet. “Do you have your phone?” Ian asked.

            Mandy gave him a weird look, like she wasn’t quite sure what he had asked. With a sigh, Ian reached for her purse and dug into it, his hand closing around what seemed to be a flip phone from the nineties.

            He flicked it open and scrolled through the contacts until he found Mickey. It wasn’t hard. There were only four people in her phone. Mickey. Ian. Kenyatta. Home. He clicked on Mickey’s name, chose text message, and quickly wrote: _I need you to pick us up._

            Then he waited. One minute, two minutes, three minutes. He texted again. _Now._

            Nothing.

            He started texting Mickey’s name to him over and over and over again, hoping the repetitive vibration would eventually wake him up. When he was in the middle of typing Mickey’s name for the thirtieth time, the phone buzzed in his hand. He felt as if the weight of the world had just been lifted off of him.

            Three words lit up the screen: _Where are you?_

Ian replied quickly, his fingers shaking, and looked back up at Mandy. She was picking at the food left on a plate on the table. She commented on something in the table’s conversation and they replied nicely enough, letting her into their circle despite her drunken state. Ian forced himself to breathe. She was fine. She was going to be fine.

            Then she turned her head and vomited in the grass.

            Brushing the hair back from her face, Ian whispered, “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

            She looked down at him, blue eyes dark in the muted light, and then laughed. Ian resisted the urge to set his head down and give up on her. His heart was still beating too fast. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he murmured, trying to convince himself more than her.

            Mickey texted that he was there ten minutes later and Ian directed him as best he could over to their table. Five minutes passed and then Mickey approached. The first thing Ian saw were his black sneakers stopping just short of Mandy’s puke in the grass. He looked up into matching blue eyes and held back his sigh of relief.

            _“The fuck happened?”_ Mickey signed.

            _“I don’t know.”_

            With a sigh, Mickey grabbed Mandy’s arm and yanked her up from the chair. She stumbled on her heels and he got an arm around her. Ian stood and supported her other side. Between the two of them, even with her rag doll limp and giggling like a Tickle-Me-Elmo, they managed to get her over to the SUB’s parking lot and into Mickey’s car.

            Ian eased her into the backseat as Mickey started up the car. He slid in with her, lying her head down on his knees even though she was a live wire. Ian tried to buckle her in the best he could on her side and Mickey shot off into the night, her giggling the uncomfortable soundtrack to their drive.

            Getting her up the stairs to their apartment was even harder and Ian took all her weight when Mickey paused to look for his keys. He slid open the metal door and took Mandy, just in time for Ian to stop the door from banging too loudly in the middle of the night. He flicked on a light switch as he came into the apartment, watching the two Milkoviches stumble into Mandy’s bedroom.

            The open door let in a cold breeze but Ian couldn’t find the energy to shut it. His entire body buzzed with fatigue and he just wanted to make sure that Mandy was all right. A second later Mickey came out of Mandy’s room, closing the door quietly behind him. When he looked up to see Ian, his blue eyes were ice cold.

            _“The fuck are you doing?”_ he signed.

            _“She all right?”_

_“Fine.”_

            Ian swallowed and hesitated a moment too long.

            _“The fuck were you doing?”_ Mickey asked _. “She’s drunk off her ass, smelling like a goddamn grow-op and you’re clean as a whistle.”_

_“She got away from me.”_

_“She got away from you? You just fucking lost a teenage girl in the middle of a group of other drunken, drugged up teenagers?”_ Mickey paused, but Ian couldn’t find the words to reply. _“Did you know she was drinking?”_

_“Yeah, but-”_

_“And you just let her wander off? Do you have any idea what could have happened to her? What might have happened to her when you ‘lost’ her?”_

_“She’s fine.”_

_“She’s drunk and high and puking all over the floor!”_

_“I’m sorry.”_

_“Fuck you.”_

            Ian took a deep breath. _“She’s her own person. She’s going to do-”_

_“You were supposed to take care of her.”_

_“Since when?”_

_“Since you took her out!”_

            Ian scoffed and let his eyes roll away from Mickey. His fatigue bubbled over into annoyance and he looked back at Mickey with a stone cold expression. _“We’re the same age. She makes her own decisions. I’m not her keeper. If you wanted me to be her babysitter, you should’ve asked.”_

_“That’s not what I thought I had to ask you.”_

            Ian shrugged.

            _“She’s my little sister and she’s not as street smart as you’d think, growing up in the neighbourhood she did. So when you take her anywhere, you gotta take care of her.”_

_“I was worried fucking sick,”_ Ian replied, his fingers shaking. _“I spent the whole night looking for her. Wondering where she was. And then she shows up drunk and high and I didn’t know what to do, okay? I had no idea what the fuck to do.”_

_“Then congrats on being fucking useless.”_

            Ian stared, stunned into silence for a moment.

            Mickey huffed. _“Get the fuck out of my house.”_

_“Mick-”_

_“Out. Now.”_

            Ian didn’t move until Mickey started walking towards him. Then he stumbled backwards, scrambling to find words, but his hands were too tired to form them. The metal door slammed in his face, its noise reverberating through the walls of the condo. Ian stood there staring at it for a long moment, his breath coming in huffs, and his heart once again pounding.

            It took him a second to convince himself to move. To turn and go down the stairs and wander over to the bus stop. He stood at the stop shivering, hoping that the buses hadn’t stopped running yet. Someone was yelling down the street and not in a playful manner. Several people passed and glared at him, as if daring him to try something.

            He pulled his leather coat close around him, trying to rid himself of the post-midnight chill. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and fall asleep. He was buzzing with the shock of the fight and running over Mickey’s words in his head. He knew Mickey was completely right. He was one hundred percent fucking useless.

            Boarding the bus, he sat in the most uncomfortable looking seat and forced himself to keep his eyes open. The long ride numbed his thoughts, forcing the fight from his mind. He kept his eyes on the moving street, blinking only when he remembered to.

            Then came the cold walk back to his house and the creaking of his front door as he pushed it open. The quiet static of the TV reached his ears and he saw Fiona curled up at the end of the couch. She opened her eyes as he approached and softly said, “Hey.”

            “You didn’t have to wait up,” Ian whispered.

            “I sleep better knowing you’re here.”

            Ian padded into the room, slipping off  his shoes as he went. His eyes flickered over to the TV screen. “Whatcha watching?”

            “ _Vertigo._ ”

            He sat down next to her on the couch and she glanced over at him. With a tired half smile, she asked, “You have fun?”

            “Yeah.”

            She brushed a hand through his red hair and pulled his head down onto her shoulder. “Yeah?” she replied, kissing the top of his forehead.

            He nodded, his eyes already closing, the ending scenes of _Vertigo_ his lullaby.


	13. Chapter 13

Ian stared at his ceiling. He had managed to push the sheets halfway off and the uneven hem tickled the edge of his exposed stomach. His eyes drooped, staying closed for too long every time he blinked. The muffled noise of the Gallagher household floated up the stairs and through the hallways, finding him alone in his room through the slightly ajar door.

            A knock sounded and the door swung open. Fiona poked her head in, a glass of orange juice and his pill box in her hands. She stepped into the room and said, “Hey, sleepy head.”

            He glanced towards her but said nothing as she set the juice and pills on top of the dresser. Kneeling down beside the bed, she rested her chin on top of her hands and looked up at him. “How you feeling?”

            “Fine.”

            “You have fun last night?”

            “You already asked me that.”

            “I know,” she replied. Then smiled. “Just wanna see if you feel different in the light of day.”

            Ian snorted. “Light” was a relative term, with the only sunshine in the room coming through the half-assed ivory blackout curtains over the window. That streak of light was what had woke him up even before the noise of the household had the chance to do so.

            “You gonna get up?”

            “Yeah.”

            “When?”

            He shrugged and went back to staring at the ceiling. Fiona sighed and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. “Hey,” she said and waited until he looked at her again. “You need to get out of this bed, class or not. I know it’s the weekend and you were out late... but I need you to get up, okay? Your family needs you to get up.”

            “It’s not even noon.”

            “I know.” Fiona ducked her head, betraying the fact that she wouldn’t bug any other Gallagher to get up before noon on the weekend without reason. “But you have a dinner shift tonight and homework to do, I’m sure.”

            Ian groaned.

            “Lots of homework?”

            “Lots of studying,” he replied. He looked over at his sister and squeezed her hand back. “I have to finish the last chapter of the Psych textbook and find wifi so I can do the quiz. There’s a History test on Tuesday I have to study for –I should probably actually read the textbook pages too– and like thirty short stories to read for English. Definitely at least thirty practice problems for Math and I think I have a midterm on Friday...”

            “It’s been two weeks and you have a midterm?”

            He shrugged. “That’s just what they call ‘em.”

            Fiona stared at him for a long moment and then said, “We’ll help.”

            “Fi, this isn’t a project that you can just do and then send me to school with. This is information I need to have in my head in order to pass tests in class that you can’t take for me.” He sighed. “But thank you.”

            She nodded, kissed his forehead, and got to her feet. “Take your meds.” She paused for a second, her fingertips still touching the palm of his hand. “Should I call Dr. Connor? See if we can get an appointment to adjust them a bit?”

            Ian stared at her for a long moment. The suggestion made him sick, but he nodded all the same. She blew him one last kiss before leaving the room and he turned back to the ceiling, trying to convince himself to at least get up to swallow the pills.

***

            “You should get up.”

            Ian glanced towards the doorway. Lip walked into the room, heading for the dresser. He tried to look like he wanted a new shirt, but it was clear he was checking to see if Ian had taken his meds. He had. He had just rolled right back into bed after swallowing them dry.

            “Seriously,” Lip said, pulling his shirt over his head. “I took a look at your math homework, and there’s this really cool trick that’s gonna cut your solving time in half.” He smiled at Ian but Ian just blinked back. “And Fiona’s about halfway through those god-awful short stories you have to read. She’s taking notes on the symbolism and the plot and whatever other shit seems important. Debbie’s taking notes from your Psych textbook. You should really see it. Colour-coded with all the titles and everything. I’d think she’s just copying the book word for word but she’s summarizing like a champ. And then Carl and Liam were flipping through your History textbook and found the section on World War I and are now putting together a miniature version of all the battles in the living room. Finally putting all that Lego to good use.”

            He paused to glance down at Ian again, who was staring at him wide-eyed. To seem like he wasn’t feeling nearly as fuzzy as he did, Ian said, “We’re not even at World War I yet.”

            “Don’t tell them that,” Lip replied. “They’re really excited.” He pulled on a new shirt and then grabbed both the pill box and the full glass of juice. He stood there a second too long and said, “Get up. Let me teach you that trick and then you can spend the rest of the day reading everyone’s notes in bed.”

            Ian let his look be the question.

            “Well, the rest of the day until the World War I rendition is ready to go and you have work.” Lip smiled. “Come on.”

            With a smile, Ian rolled reluctantly out from under the covers. He pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans before following his brother down into the kitchen. Debbie was at the table, switching from a pink gel pen to a purple one. Fiona was at the stove, a highlighter between her teeth, absently flipping grilled cheeses with one hand and holding a thousand page anthology in the other. Through the archway, Ian could see Carl and Liam building a small forest with green and brown Lego blocks.

            Lip patted him on the back and pulled him over to the counter. He already had the problems up on their ancient laptop. “If you set it right there, we can get the neighbour’s wifi,” he explained as he tried not to nudge the computer. He wrote down the first problem in a notebook and pulled out a calculator.

            Ian listened as he dove into the complicated world of math. He had to ask Lip to slow down twice, but followed well enough through the uneven fuzz of his brain. And after the problems were finished, he went to sit with Debbie and she began to explain the various stages of human development that he needed to know.

            And the day passed in a blissful sense of study, culminating in a too loud and historically inaccurate portrayal of World War I. Ian clapped along with the rest of his family before going off to work, a smile still on his face.


	14. Chapter 14

Ian skipped Psychology Monday morning in order to squeeze into a last minute appointment with his psychiatrist. And, with his meds very slightly adjusted, he took his new pills instead of his old ones and laid at home all morning reading his History textbook as Fiona switched out the old Lithium with the new.

            He found with Lip’s teaching that he could at least keep up in Math class now, doing the problems at the same speed as the professor. He wrote starred notes in the margins of his notebook for things he’d have to ask Lip about later, but made it through the class unscathed.

            Walking back to the bus stop, he passed the coffee shop but neglected to look inside until a banging came on one of the glass walls. Mandy was standing on the other side and she waved, beckoning for him to come talk to her.

            He considered continuing down the sidewalk but determined he had looked at her too long to be able to claim he hadn’t seen her. With a sigh, he headed through the side door and into the shop, stopping just before Mandy.

            “I’m sorry,” she said quickly.

            Ian shook his head. “It’s fine.”

            Mandy rolled her eyes. “I know it’s fine. Girls get drunk at college parties. Whatever. And you’ve probably taken care of a hundred drunk girls at high school parties and just... thank you for taking care of me too.” She paused to lick her lips. “I’m apologizing for Mickey. He shouldn’t have gotten mad at you.”

            He shrugged. “Whatever.”

            “Are you mad at me?”

            For a second, Ian was silent and then he shook his head. “Just tired. It’s been a long day.”

            “Yeah. Sleeping through Psych is tough,” she replied, smiling slightly.

            He laughed. “So tough.” He reached forward and squeezed one of her hands. “You scared the shit out of me, okay? And it doesn’t matter how many times I’ve done it or how many times I’ll do it again, if you go somewhere with me, stay with me, all right? Mickey was right about that.”

            She stared at him for a long second and then squeezed back. “I’m a big girl, Ian. I can take care of myself.”

            Then she let go of his hand and backed away. And Ian tried to find it within himself to care at all that she was now the one upset with him for taking her brother’s side in the argument. But he flashed back to that night, to her drunkenly bouncing onto his shoulders, and knew that he was right even if she was a ‘big girl’.

            With a sigh, he turned away from the coffee shop and went home.

***

            The next day, Ian got to History class before Mickey but sat in his usual spot in the front row. He buzzed with numb tension, the new dosage of Lithium still a little heavy for him, and watched the door.

            Mickey entered not long after. He took one look at Ian, his blue eyes like electricity against wet skin, and then turned to the other side of the classroom. He sat down near the back, pulled out a pencil, and made a point of staring straight at the blackboard.

            Ian wanted to move. He wanted to explain himself or apologize or do anything that might have made Mickey look at him again. But he wasn’t sure an apology was going to cut it. And he had basically told Mickey he liked him the last time he saw him and then gotten in a huge fight with him. And, really, there was nothing Ian needed to interpret for Mickey today.

            So he rested back in his seat, pulled his eyes away from Mickey, and waited numbly for the test to start. The only spark working its way through his numbness was the thought of Mickey sitting behind him. Mickey simply being in the room had woken up some receptor in his nerves, making him more alive than he’d felt since changing his dosage.

            He glanced at Mickey again and he was still staring at the blackboard. With a sigh, Ian forced himself to focus on the blackboard too. He read the names of all the events that he promised himself he was never going to. All the due dates for the classes he wasn’t taking. He memorized them in the short minutes before Dr. Dhawan walked into the room with a stack of quizzes in his hands.

            Ian’s first thought was that he probably hadn’t studied enough. His next was that if the quiz was on World War I, he would have quite the bullshit story to tell on the long answer questions.

            The room filled slowly and Dr. Dhawan handed out the test. He explained the rules and Ian glanced back at Mickey, hoping he could at least make out that. There was no indication either way. Mickey’s lips pursed as he stared at the professor.

            Starting the quiz, Ian was surprised how much of the material he knew. And the multiple choice helped a lot with the dates. He finished sooner than most of the class and yet, when he turned to leave, Mickey was already gone. He had missed his chance to wait outside formulating an apology that might work. So he headed home, trying to hold onto the buzz of Mickey being near.


	15. Chapter 15

“I can’t believe him,” Mandy said. She rested her chin on her hand, giving Ian a sympathetic look. “I explained everything to him, I swear, he just... he thinks I’m like a little kid or something and I’m only a year younger than him.”

            Ian shrugged. He was leaning against the receiving counter at the coffee shop, struggling through some math problems. “Whatever. He has a right to be mad. You were really messed up.”

            She was silent for a second as she filled a cup of coffee with caramel syrup. Setting it under the machine, she clicked a button and turned back to him. “Want to come by and study tonight?”

            “I really have to finish this math.”

            “The one that’s the pre-req for that stupid stats class?” she asked.

            Ian nodded.

            “I have that too,” she said. “We can work together.”

            He was silent, playing through the numbers in his mind. He erased half of what he had just done standing there. Mandy said, “Please? You can stop by once my shift is done and we’ll go back to my place on the bus so you don’t have to see Mickey and we’ll order takeout and grumble over math problems.” She paused before adding, “You said you weren’t mad at me.”

            Glancing up at her, he sighed. “I’m not mad at you. But you really scared me and you don’t seem to care.”

            She put a cup on the counter and called a name. Looking back at him, her blue eyes were sad for a moment, and she said, “I’m sorry. Really. It was uncool of me to run off like that and get drunk and get high and I was a disgusting mess and you probably saved me from something truly awful. So thank you and I’m sorry.”

            She grabbed his hand, stopping his writing. “Now leave this to do with me later?”

            Ian stared at her and then glanced up at the clock. He had to get to class anyways. “Fine. I’ll be there.”

            She smiled and went back to making coffee as he packed up.

***

            Mandy sighed heavily as she checked the answer to the problem they were working on. She had every page of the homework printed and spread out before them. There were no numbers, so she kept circling the one they were working on in darker and darker shades until she had nearly torn a hole through one of the pages.

            “Wrong,” she said.

            Ian faked a shocked face and then dropped his pencil to run his hands through his hair. “How many times have we done this problem?” he asked.

            “Five.”

            “What’s our record?”

            “For getting it wrong or giving up?” she asked. Then, before he could answer, she said, “Let’s go from the top. Make sure we have all our numbers right in the first place. It starts with a five, yes?”

            Ian nodded and they went through the problem. All their copied numbers were right. Neither of them could find a problem with their first step or their second or even their third. Mandy whimpered as she rested her head down on the counter. “I give up,” she said. “The answer is thirteen and I don’t give a shit what the answer key says.”

            “What does the answer key say?”

            “Three X minus Y.”

            Groaning, Ian spun around on the stool and looked up at the ceiling. His phone buzzed on the counter but he ignored it, knowing it was only Fiona again, checking in to make sure he hadn’t jumped in front of a bus or slit his wrists. He spun back around to look at the problem.

            “Should I call my brother?” he asked.

            “We are smart independent younger siblings,” Mandy replied, “who probably do actually need your brother’s help, yeah.”

            Ian forced himself to smile through his math-induced fatigue. He picked up his phone and called Lip. Straight to voicemail. He dropped the phone on the counter, ignoring the clatter it caused. He was almost glad Mickey was deaf because if he wasn’t he certainly would’ve left his room by now just to tell them to shut the hell up.

            Mandy had started working on the problem again, using a new method that no one had taught her and that probably wasn’t going to work. Ian stared as she worked, following her logic the best he could before she got stuck with a fraction for no known reason. She looked up at Ian and he did his best not to smile.

            A few minutes later, Mickey came out into the kitchen. He ignored both of them, heading for the fridge to get more beer. Ian once again caught sight of the empty white interior and, turning to Mandy, signed, _“Do you guys have_ any _food?”_

            “We have cereal,” she replied out loud.

            Mickey looked at both of them and Ian determined that he must look like as much of a mess as Mandy did. Her hair was pulled to one side of her head, some strands sticking up with static. Mickey signed, _“What’re you working on?”_

            _“Math,”_ Ian replied. He tossed the notebook across the counter in all its messy glory and Mickey stared at it for a moment.

            _“You’re doing it wrong.”_

_“Tell me something I don’t know.”_

            Rolling his eyes, Mickey came around the other side of the counter and grabbed the printed page with the problems on it. He quickly isolated the separate terms of the equation and preceded to solve the entire problem in longhand right before their eyes. Both Ian and Mandy stared at him. He circled his answer: 3x – y.

            _“Explain it,”_ Mandy signed, shoving another piece of paper at him.

            Ian shifted over a stool and Mickey sat down between them and started the problem over. He explained as he went, writing notes in the margins instead of signing. The problem seemed easy in his terms whereas Lip always made it seem like the problem was very complicated, he just knew how to cheat it.

            They moved onto the next problem as a group and Mickey let the two of them follow through on their own before circling all the mistakes on their pages. It was a few problems later before Ian actually managed to get one on the first try. Two problems later Mandy had it down as well.

            His stomach grumbled and Mandy looked towards the clock. Hopping off the stool, she signed, _“Chinese?”_

            Ian nodded and she headed over to the phone. Mickey wandered back around the counter, finally opening his dripping beer and taking a swig. Ian looked up at him, wondering how much the guy still hated him. He signed, _“You’re pretty good at this stuff.”_

            Mickey shrugged.

            _“What’s your major?”_

_“Don’t have one.”_

_“What are you taking?”_

_“History, Economics, Math.”_

            He took another swig of the beer and Ian pursed his lips, looking for something to say. His phone lit up again, this time with a call instead of a text message. He stared at Fiona’s name tiredly, declined the call, and then opened up a text message to reply to her. When he was done, Mickey was staring at him.

            _“Pretty popular.”_

            Ian rolled his eyes. _“It’s just my sister.”_

_“She texts a lot.”_

_“She worries.”_

            Mickey took another swig of his beer, but his eyes didn’t leave Ian’s. He asked, _“You give her a reason to worry?”_

            Ian snorted but stopped himself from outright laughing. _“You could say that,”_ he replied. _“I did some pretty stupid shit last year.”_

_“Like?”_

            Tapping his fingers against the counter, Ian shrugged. He couldn’t bring himself to look away from Mickey’s eyes, even though there was still a hostile glint to them, like he wasn’t quite forgiven. He could still hear Mandy talking behind him, giggling into the receiver as she flirted with the restaurant’s host.

            _“I ran away,”_ Ian said finally. He itched for a sip of Mickey’s beer as memories flooded him. _“I was gone for months. And when she finally found me, I was sleeping in the basement of a crack house with a forty year-old guy named Denny who didn’t even have all his teeth and I claimed he was the love of my life.”_

            Mickey stared at him for a long moment. “ _Didn’t think you’d have the balls.”_

            Ian laughed _. “Yeah, well, it’s the worst thing I’ve ever done.”_

            There was a moment of hesitation before Mickey raised his hands again. _“You lived in a crack house and Mandy scared you the other night?”_

            Shrugging, Ian replied _, “I was always too messed up to care about anyone else.”_

            Mickey nodded shortly and picked up his beer again, effectively ending the conversation. Mandy hung up the phone and walked back over to the counter, swinging up onto the stool. She signed, _“You guys arguing again?”_

_“No,”_ Ian replied, but he said no more. Mickey also neglected to expand. Mandy’s eyes flickered between them and she shrugged, going back to the math problems without delay.

            Ian looked back up at Mickey and the two stared at each other for a long moment. Ian felt a flutter of heat in his chest, like a single butterfly in his stomach had been set on fire. Then Mickey turned away, heading back to his room, and Ian forced himself to look back at the problems in front of him.

            Mandy asked him a question and he hesitated in answering it, opting instead to wince at the slamming of Mickey’s door. Mickey even ate his dinner when it came alone in his room and, despite it being late when Ian left, he didn’t see him again. He hugged Mandy goodbye and walked out to the bus stop, already hitting the button to call Fiona.

            When she picked up, he said, “Hey. I’m coming home. I had my meds with me. Everything’s fine.”

            She breathed heavily in his ear. “I love you, kiddo.”

            Ian smiled. “Love you too.” He hung up and stepped onto the bus.


	16. Chapter 16

Setting aside a clean plate, Ian reached into the steamy water and pulled the plug. A glugging sound filled the back of the kitchen as he wiped his hands off on a towel and checked the clock. There was another hour left in his shift.

            Taking a deep breath, he picked up the plastic box and headed back out into the diner. Two tables had left since he’d last been out there and he headed over to them, dumping the dishes into the box. They clattered unevenly, customers shot him dirty looks, and he started to set them down more carefully.

            He was bone tired from spending last night with Mickey and Mandy. He had gotten home late, slept for too long, and rushed out the door to start his shift. The meds had kicked in a little better and were no longer making him fuzzy, but the fatigue side-effect was strong enough to pull him under whenever he closed his eyes for longer than a second.

            Walking behind the counter, he looked up when the bell over the door rung. Adam stepped through, holding the door open first for Debbie and then for Karen. _“It’s a school day,”_ Ian said as they approached.

            _“Lunch time,”_ Debbie signed, sliding into a seat at the counter.

            Ian stared at her for a moment before looking at Adam who said out loud, “She wanted to see you.”

            “Hey, Debs,” Karen said, sliding into the seat beside her.

            Ian moved his eyes from Adam to Karen. “She can’t hear you.”

            “Right, umm...” Karen winced and then gave Ian a look. Ian quickly demonstrated the sign for hello and how to spell Debbie’s name. Karen repeated it awkwardly and Debbie simply rolled her eyes at her before looking back at Ian.

            _“How much longer is Lip going to be with her?”_ Debbie asked.

            Ian laughed.

            “What’d she say?”

            “Umm...” He looked down at the tub of dishes beside him. “She says hi back and asks how you’re doing.”

            “Oh, I’m good,” she replied and Ian didn’t bother interpreting. “And I’ll have the waffles.”

            Nodding, Ian jotted her order down on a scrap of paper and hung it from the wheel. He signed to Debbie, _“I’ll be right back,”_ and walked into the kitchen, carrying his dishes. He turned on the sink, setting the water nice and hot, and added more soap. He dumped in the dishes and then walked back out to the counter with an empty bucket.

            Setting it on the counter, he walked over to Debbie and asked, _“Bad day at school?”_

            She shook her head. _“Haven’t seen you in a while.”_

_“Sorry.”_

            She shrugged. _“I’ll get used to it.”_

            She dipped her eyes to the counter, scanning the menu half-heartedly. Adam sat on the stool beside her and Ian gave him a look, silently asking him to leave. Amazingly, he got the hint and walked down a few stools. Ian tapped the centre of the menu to get Debbie’s attention again.

            _“Adam okay?”_ he asked.

            _“He’s great.”_

            Ian watched the smile that lit up her face with a hint of nervousness. Licking his lips, he asked, _“Yeah? What do you like about him?”_

            Her smile only widened. _“He’s really funny and nice. And he gets what we’re talking about, so if I tell him that I don’t necessarily get something the way the teacher said it, he’ll try to find another way to explain it. And he’s always making jokes and he does his best to keep up with conversations in the hallways and he’s just... he’s really great.”_

            Her brown eyes sparkled as she went on about him and Ian glanced towards Adam sitting a few seats away, chatting with one of the waitresses. Debbie was halfway through a sentence when he looked back. _“And then he just made a joke and everything went back to normal.”_ She paused for a second. _“We really balance each other out.”_

            She glanced towards Adam and gave a little wave. He waved back, a picture perfect smile sliding over his face. Ian did his best to try not to want to punch the guy in the face. He waved in front of Debbie’s face and she looked back at him, only slightly annoyed.

            _“You get that he’s in his twenties, right? And doing his job?”_

            Debbie scoffed. _“I’m not an idiot.”_

_“I know, I just-”_

_“I’m a stupid kid, right? What would he ever want from me?”_

_“It’s illegal, Debs.”_

            She stared at Ian for a long moment and then breathed out the word, “Whatever.”

            Ian sighed and searched for the words to explain this to her. But explaining to a teenage girl that a twenty year-old man wasn’t going to be into her was like trying to explain that the Earth was round to someone from the sixteenth century.

            A whistle came from across the restaurant and Ian saw a couple empty tables strewn with dishes. He nodded his acknowledgement and then looked back at Debbie, who had gone back to staring at him, waiting for a reply.

            _“It’s not about you, okay?”_ Ian signed. _“It’s about the age difference and him and the law. Okay? Do you get that?”_

_“Yes.”_

            He stared at her for a long moment, knowing that she really didn’t get it, but the whistle came again. He bent over the counter to kiss the top of her head and then grabbed the box to go off to the tables.

            Unfortunately, Adam followed him.

            “So?” he asked. “Has she convinced you that I’m good at my job?”

            “I really don’t care how good you are at your job,” Ian bit out. He let the dishes clatter, ignoring the way that the customers were looking at him. “I care that my fourteen year old sister is desperately in love with you.”

            Adam laughed. “She’s not in love with me.”

            Ian gave him a look like he was extremely hopeless. “Look, just get her lunch and get her back to class and try not to flirt. And I know you’re not flirting, but if you could do up a button and maybe wipe that stupid smile from your face, it would be a start.”

            Shocked, Adam took a step back and finally stopped smiling. Ian barely spared him a glance. And the glance he did spare him was only enough to notice that the man was still attractive even without his teeth on full display. He came back to the counter to see Karen trying to talk to Debbie again and harshly reminded her, “She can’t hear you.”

            Karen’s mouth snapped closed immediately and Adam came to the rescue, charming Karen in a manner of seconds. Ian tried to stop his eyes from rolling out of his head as he headed back to the sink. As he dipped his hands into the boiling water, all he could think was how glad he was that he got to go to school today.


	17. Chapter 17

Friday Mandy took the bus out to Chicago all by herself just to meet Ian after his appointment to study for the next quiz on Monday. He had tried to prevent her from coming at all, claiming Fridays were bad for him, but eventually relented to her coming after he “took care of some things”. She had given him a weird look, but had eventually stopped asking questions about it.

            Mandy came in through the front door without knocking and Ian waved as she hung up her coat. He ushered her into the kitchen and turned to the fridge to grab two cokes before heading to the table. Mandy had already sat down.

            “Chapter... Six?” Mandy asked as she pulled out her Psych textbook.

            “Yup.”

            The book fell open with a crash as Ian landed in the seat perpendicular to hers. He looked over at the page they were on and wrote the title of the chapter at the top of his notebook in green ink. Mandy smiled at him.

            “You colour code?”

            “My sister started the notes like this and I can’t find the heart to ditch the system.”

            “Does it work?”

            He shrugged. “I got eighty on the last quiz.”

            Mandy picked up the green pen as he dropped it and wrote the title across the top of her notebook. Ian’s subtitle became purple and hers pink and they switched the colours for the bulk of their notes.

            Twenty minutes in, they were arguing over whether or not the date of a study was actually important when the backdoor opened, blasting them with cold air. Lip walked into the kitchen, twisting a scarf off of his neck, and said, “Hey. Home early.”

            “Skip your last class?” Ian asked.

            “Could ask you the same thing.”

            “Couldn’t ask me the same thing.”

            “True. He finished at four,” Mandy supplied.

            Lip looked at them for the first time, his eyes lingering on Mandy. She smiled back at him nervously, like a little girl with her first crush. Lip coughed slightly and then said, “Hey. I’m Lip.” He looked at Ian. “Little warning next time you’re bringing a pretty girl home? I’d prefer not to be fresh off an hour long train ride.”

            “She’s pretty?” Ian asked.

            Mandy shoved him and then said, “No worries. My bus ride’s about an hour too.”

            Lip smiled. “Yeah, but you look fresh as a daisy.”

            She smiled back and Ian looked between them. Dropping his pen, he pushed back from the table and said, “Actually, Lip, I have to talk to you for a second, okay?”

            Lip nodded and followed Ian out into the living room, looking over his shoulder at Mandy. Ian snapped and Lip’s attention turned to his brother. “She has a boyfriend,” Ian said.

            Lip shrugged. “I have a girlfriend.”

            “She has a big, angry, black boyfriend who won’t hesitate to snap your neck.”

            Again, he shrugged.

            Ian shook his head. “Look, she has enough asshole exes without adding you to the list.”

            “You’re saying I’m worse for her than a guy who apparently ‘wouldn’t hesitate to snap my neck’?”

            Ian stared at him for a long moment before sighing. “No, I just... Nothing. Okay. Whatever. Just don’t... fuck her for sport.”

            Lip studied him for a moment. “Why not?” he asked. “Not that I’m arguing I should be able to fuck a girl for sport. I’m just wondering why particularly not her. You have no problem with Karen.”

            “I hate Karen,” he replied. “Mandy’s my best friend.”

            Lip stared at him in silence.

            “And her brother would kill me.”

            “And her brother’s hot?”

            Ian shrugged.

            Laughing, Lip clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Fine. I won’t cock block you.” He stepped back and headed up the stairs, shaking his head.

            Ian sighed and headed back into the kitchen, pausing in the doorway when he saw Debbie sitting across from Mandy. The two were signing back and forth, Mandy smiling brightly at the younger girl. She looked up at Ian and beckoned him forward. He took his seat again, joining the conversation, and slowly they turned back to studying, Debbie helping them with the colour coding and reading off of Ian’s textbook as they shared Mandy’s.


	18. Chapter 18

“Yeah,” Ian said into the phone. He listened for a second as Fiona started in again and then cut her off, “I have my meds for this evening and I’ll take them at the game. We just need wifi to do this quiz and then we’re going to the game and... yeah. I know you haven’t met Mandy. Lip met her. He likes her.” Ian laughed. “Well, yeah, he wants to fuck her, but you’d be hard pressed to find a person with breasts he doesn’t want to fuck... yeah. Love you too. I’ll call.”

            He hung up the phone as he pushed through the glass doors of the library. He walked towards the computer section and saw Mandy waving to him over the tops of the old, bulky machines. He slid into the seat next to her and greeted her in a whisper.

            Quickly, he logged onto the computer and pulled up the Psych course page and clicked on the link for the quiz. He pulled out his notes and laid them next to Mandy’s. Then he pulled out his textbook and laid it open to the sixth chapter on the other side of his keyboard. The two of them looked at each other and she made a face.

            “We can do this, right?” she asked.

            Ian shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”

            She stared at the screen, tapping her fingers lightly against the keyboard. “I mean... the game doesn’t start until seven and it’s three, so we have like four hours to do this quiz.”

            Ian smiled. “We also have to eat.”

            “We can eat there.”

            “We’ve studied. We’re good.”

            She sighed. “I just can’t fail another one.”

            “Hey, I’m right here. Cheat off me.”

            She smiled and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Okay,” and clicked the start button on her quiz. Ian clicked his a second later and their whispered arguments over the answers began.

            Out of twenty questions, they found seven that they agreed upon and then split up the remaining thirteen between them to look for the answers. Ten minutes later, when they had both found their answers, they traded and then proceeded to look up the seven they were sure about. And nine minutes later they had all those answers confirmed.

            Ian looked at Mandy. “You ready?”

            “Sure,” she said and hit the submit button. Ian hit it too.

            A second later the page came up confirming their submissions and then the next page saying they had to wait until the quiz closed to know if their answers were correct or not. Mandy made a whimpering sound and looked at Ian, who smiled at her and squeezed her hand tightly.

            “Math?” she asked.

            He nodded and they moved from the computers to a cluster of chairs not too far away. They sat across from each other, working on math problems and comparing answers. About an hour later, Mandy got a text and said, “Mickey’s coming.”

            Ian blinked. “He is?”

            “Yeah. He wanted to see the game and he’s off work so...” she trailed off as she looked up at him. “What?”

            “It’s just... I’m... Nothing.”

            Mandy smirked. “You look fine.”

            “I’m wearing jeans with holes in them and my brother’s shirt that I’m pretty sure hasn’t been washed in three weeks.”

            She stifled a laugh. “Don’t worry about it. He’s not coming specifically to see how fuckable you are. He’s coming to see how bad you are at math.”

            Rolling his eyes, Ian said, “Thanks for that.”

            She sighed. “He’ll be coming straight from the garage. He’ll be greasy and sweaty and probably in a wife beater and his hair will be a mess and...” She paused and pursed her lips. “I’m turning you on, aren’t I?”

            Ian shrugged. “Little bit.”

            “You’re disgusting. That’s my brother.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “Liar.”

            Smiling, Ian looked back down at his notebook and tried to calm the anxiety-ridden butterflies in his stomach. He started to scratch through the next math problem and was almost done when Mickey dropped into the seat beside him. Ian glanced at him and gave a half-hearted wave before looking back down at the problem.

            Mickey reached across his arm, their skin brushing, and underlined the third line of his method in blue pen. Ian glanced at the section for only a split second before taking the excuse to look at Mickey.

            And while Mickey wasn’t exactly the mess Mandy had predicted, he was still fairly sweaty. He wore a clean t-shirt even though his hands were stained with car grease. He ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair and leaned closer to Ian. The smell of sweat, cheap half-assed deodorant, and grease was heavy on him. Ian tried not to inhale as Mickey started scratching out what Ian had done, trying to help him see what the problem was.

            After a moment, Ian regained himself enough to work from where Mickey had left him off and then glanced towards him when he went a different way. Mickey nodded absently before pulling Mandy’s notebook towards him, checking her work too. He didn’t shift his chair away from Ian’s though and his whole body buzzed distractedly.

            Distractedly enough that he messed up the problem again and Mickey leaned close _again_ and screwed up his concentration. Mandy made a face at him across the table and Ian glared, silently telling her to shut the hell up. She smirked and slid her notebook towards Mickey, bumping it against his elbows.

            He looked down at it without shifting away from Ian and Mandy raised an eyebrow. “Shut up,” he hissed, forgetting that Mickey was close enough to him to feel his breath on his ear. As Mickey glanced towards him, Ian pulled his lips into a tight line and tried to stop his heart from beating straight out of his chest. Mickey shifted away slightly and Ian closed his eyes, wishing in that moment that he could give up and die. It didn’t help that Mandy was laughing at him.

            When the math problems were done, they switched over to History and Mandy got to work on a project for her Women’s Studies course. Ian had a hard time focussing on Mickey’s notes as he copied what he had missed from Thursday’s class while signing to Mickey. His notes were seriously lacking from that day, but it wasn’t all from signing. A lot of it was from staring at Mickey and he cursed himself for being such a love struck ditz when he knew Mickey would be looking at what he wrote.

            And soon they stopped studying, Mickey standing first, telling them all that they had to go if they were going to eat before the game. They grabbed food at the school cafeteria before heading over to the stadium and getting seats high on the cold, hard metal stands.

            Mandy sat in between the two of them and Ian couldn’t tell which of the siblings’ choice that had been. He tried not to keep glancing over at Mickey but did it so much that eventually Mickey rose one eyebrow at him and signed, _“What?”_

            Ian looked away. He really needed to calm the hell down. But his heart refused to listen to his head.


	19. Chapter 19

Dr. Dhawan finished up his lecture early and turned off the projector. He pulled a stack of white papers from inside his briefcase and said, “I have your tests from last week, if you’re all interested.”

            Ian stopped signing in the middle of a sentence to look up at the professor. A sick feeling curled in the pit of his stomach. Even though in the moment he had been sure he had done well, seeing the disappointed look on the professor’s face and all the red marks on the test on the top of the pile, he was certain he had failed.

            Mickey smacked him on the shoulder and gave him a questioning look. Ian quickly told him what the professor had said and then went on as the professor said, “I confess, I thought that you would have some, uh, better results for this quiz. That’s not to say there weren’t high marks. There were just many, many low marks.”

            He started calling names, pulling the quizzes off the top of the pile. Ian glanced over at Mickey, who didn’t seem nervous in the least. In fact, his lack of nervousness only made Ian more nervous and he started tapping his fingers hard against the desk.

            After a moment, Mickey reached over and placed his hand over Ian’s. His fingers were cold and lingered a little too long to be there just to stop the sound. Not to mention that the sound shouldn’t have bothered Mickey at all. Ian lay his hand flat against the desk and a long second later Mickey pulled back his hand. Blue eyes flickered over to Ian and caught for only a moment before Ian had to get up to get his test.

            He managed to bring it all the way back to the desk without looking at it. Then he laid it face down on top of his notebook. Mickey gave him a look, but said nothing as he glanced back at the professor and saw his name being called. The professor smiled at Mickey and said, “Good job,” as he walked away.

            _“What’d you get?”_ Ian asked.

            Mickey turned the paper towards him, a smirk on his lips. _A-_ Ian whistled.

            _“Your turn.”_ Ian made a face and Mickey added _, “Come on. We have the same notes.”_

            All the same, Ian continued to hesitate. Mickey reached over and turned the page. Ian tried to stop him, his fingers brushing against the sleeve of Mickey’s sweatshirt, but ultimately failed. A big red _B_ was circled at the top of the page.

            Mickey looked up at him in a _see-was-that-so-bad_ manner and Ian stared at him blankly, unsure of what to say. The rest of the room was moving, the last of the tests having been handed out, and eventually Mickey left Ian  to his silence.

            It took Ian a good minute after Mickey left to pack up his things and dash out the door after him. He saw Mickey down at the end of the hall and ran after him, grabbing him by the shoulder and turning him around. Mickey looked at him with a curious expression, the slightest of smiles on his lips. Ian returned the smile.

            _“What?”_ he signed. _“No thank you?”_

            Mickey raised an eyebrow.

            _“Without me you would’ve failed that quiz.”_

            He rolled his eyes.

            _“I’m not saying you have to bake me a cake or throw me a party or anything,”_ Ian said, feeling increasingly dumber by the minute. The longer he looked at Mickey the more he was convinced that the sitting close in the library and the hand touching his for too long had all been in his imagination. _“I just... well, that A-minus is really mine.”_

_“The B is yours.”_

_“Team effort?”_

            Mickey laughed silently, his mouth curving up into a smile. Ian gave him a look, waiting for his thank you, and Mickey’s eyes glittered like he was looking straight into the sun. Mickey took a step closer to him and wrapped his hand around the back of Ian’s neck. He pressed his lips to Ian’s and Ian was too stunned to kiss him back.

            He stepped back, smirking, and signed, _“How’s that for a thank you?”_

            Ian scrambled for the words he needed but Mickey was already walking backwards down the hall, a goofy smile on his face. Ian knew he was laughing at him, but he couldn’t find the heart to care. His entire body was electric and, as Mickey turned around, he pulled in his bottom lip and bit it, just to make sure that hadn’t been in his imagination too.


	20. Chapter 20

Mandy slid open the door to her and her brother’s apartment nearly an hour later and stared out at Ian. He held up two plastic grocery bags with handles stretched nearly to the point of breaking. She gave him a look.

            “I’m tired of your empty fridge,” Ian said.

            “Uhuh.” She didn’t move.

            “Are you gonna let me in?”

            She shrugged. “Depends. Are you going to admit this is a cheap excuse to see the boy you just kissed?”

            Ian blinked. “He told you?”

            “He said, and I quote,” she paused and switched over to sign language. _“I kissed your idiot friend.”_ Smirking, she added out loud, “Then he slammed the door to his bedroom and hasn’t come out since.”

            Ian laughed, at once both glad and disappointed. Glad that Mickey had admitted to the kiss, meaning he hadn’t somehow hallucinated the whole thing, and disappointed that Mickey had been hiding in his room ever since. He immediately went through all the worse case scenarios and had to force his thoughts to shut up.

            “Can I put these bags down?”

            Mandy moved to the side and then shut the metal door behind him. He dumped the grocery bags onto the counter and started unpacking. He had milk, orange juice, and apple juice for liquids. Pop tarts, breakfast bars, and Eggos for breakfast food. And then apples, grapes, and cherries on the off chance that one of the Milkoviches might want to eat something remotely healthy.

            Mandy walked up to the counter and half sat down on one of the stools. Picking up the box of pop tarts, she said, “I prefer the strawberry.”

            “Too bad. I like blueberry.”

            “Oh, expecting to spend a lot of mornings here, are we?”

            “Shut up.”

            She laughed and pulled open the bag of cherries. With her teeth, she pulled the stem off one and then pulled it into her mouth. Ian glanced at her as he started stocking the fridge and after a minute of watching her make weird faces, asked, “What the hell are you doing?”

            She spit out the cherry stem. “Trying to tie it in a knot.”

            “Can anyone actually do that?”

            She shrugged. “I can’t.”

            Shutting the fridge, he grabbed a cherry, plucked off the stem, and put it in his mouth. He wiggled it around on his tongue, biting one end to get leverage, and after a moment spit it out. “I can’t either.”

            “You could just be a terrible kisser,” she replied. He gave her a look and she added, “I mean, that’s probably why Mickey’s hiding in his room...”

            Ian picked up the stem again and put it back in his mouth. Mandy followed suit with her own stem. The two of them stared at each other for a long moment while they screwed up their faces, trying to bend the stems into knots. Then the door to Mickey’s bedroom banged open and Ian immediately spit out his stem.

            _“The fuck are you doing?”_ Mickey signed.

            _“Trying to tie cherry stems into knots with our tongues,”_ Ian replied.

            Mickey gave them both a weird look. He reached across Ian, grabbed a cherry from the bag, and put its stem in his mouth. He wriggled a little, not nearly as much as Ian and Mandy, and a second later spit the stem back out in a perfect knot. He held it up for them to see and then dropped it on the counter before turning to the fridge.

            Ian stared at him for a long moment before glancing at Mandy. “Is it wrong how much that turns me on?”

            _“You know I can read lips right?”_ Mickey signed as he stepped back from the fridge.

            Ian blushed and dipped his head before thinking better of it. After all, this guy had already kissed him. It was no longer a secret that he liked Mickey. So he looked up in challenge and, popping a fresh cherry stem into his mouth, asked, _“Why don’t you show me how to do it then?”_

            For a moment, Mickey didn’t move from where he stood. Then he took two long strides forward and cupped Ian’s face in his hands. He pressed his lips down on Ian’s and Ian managed to react this time as Mickey opened their mouths, sliding his hot tongue across Ian’s. Mickey tasted the same as he smelled –sweaty and salty and rough like sandpaper.

            Mickey pulled back too soon, breaking the kiss abruptly and then spit into his palm. Once again, a perfectly knotted cherry stem sat in his hand. _“See?”_ he signed. _“Easy.”_

            Ian stared as Mickey picked up his beer and headed back to his room. It wasn’t until the door slammed that Mandy laughed and Ian flicked a saliva soaked cherry stem in her direction. Her laughter bubbled down into a smile and she stared up at him.

            “So?” she asked.

            “So?”

            “Mick’s not big on affection,” she said. “Might want to take advantage of it.”

            Ian blinked. “Wait. Did you just... weirdly give me permission to go fuck your brother?”

            She made a gagging sound. “First of all, don’t say that. Second of all, all I was suggesting is that you go talk to him. And, thirdly, do not look for me after because I will be piled under eight blankets wearing as many earplugs as I can manage to stuff in my ears because he has no fucking clue how loud he is.”

            Ian laughed and, giving her a smile in thanks, headed for the door to Mickey’s bedroom. He paused just before it but resisted the urge to knock. Pushing the door open just a bit, he poked his head in to see Mickey lying on his bed, flicking through the worn pages of an old James Patterson novel.

            Stepping further into the room, Ian closed the door behind him hard, unaware that the action would rumble through the walls of the apartment. Mickey looked up at him and then back down at his book. His eyes ran quickly over a few words before he put the book face down on the table next to his bed. Then he looked up at Ian questioningly, his legs spread in the perfect position for Ian to just crawl on top of him.

            Ian swallowed the urge. _“Hey,”_ he signed.

            Mickey didn’t reply, just raised his eyebrows.

            The air in the room was hot and stale, as if perpetually having the door closed and never opening the window had made the whole room expire like old milk. The two of them stared at each other. Ian swallowed his nerves by the bucket load. He had no idea what he was going to say. He probably should have stayed outside with Mandy until he had known.

            _“Come here,”_ Mickey signed suddenly.

            And Ian felt himself obeying, walking over to the side of the bed that Mickey was sprawled on. He sat down at his feet, half a foot of space between them, and watched as Mickey licked his bottom lip.

            _“Closer.”_

            Taking a deep breath, Ian shifted between Mickey’s legs and leaned forward to kiss him. Mickey arched forward, his lips meeting Ian’s too soon as he sat up straight, pulling Ian closer to him. Ian fell into the kiss, his lips crashing against Mickey’s and then falling away, trailing over Mickey’s rough skin and down his neck. Mickey moaned, the first sound Ian had really heard him make, and Ian sucked harder on the spot on his neck just below his chin.

            Ian shifted, bringing his knees to either side of Mickey’s hips, and rested just on top of him. He kissed him and Mickey bit his bottom lip, dragging it out of the kiss. Ian gasped and Mickey released his lip with a smile. His hands moved under Ian’s shirt and pulled it up over his head before coming back down, exploring every inch of Ian’s sculpted torso.

            Then Mickey dipped his hands into Ian’s pants, grabbing his ass and pulling him forward, their hips knocking together. Mickey’s lips cascaded over Ian’s neck and down across his shoulder blades, slow and soft and smooth against cold skin.

            His hands moved around to the front of his waist and Ian could sense Mickey was about to dip further. He gasped, “Wait. Wait.” The heat of his breath, coming short and fast, was enough to grab Mickey’s attention.

            Mickey’s eyes flickered a little further open, his hands pausing against Ian’s hip bones. Their warm pressure almost made Ian reconsider. He looked down at Mickey and removed his hands from around Mickey’s neck. He signed _, “What are we doing?”_

            Mickey gave him a look. His warm hands slipped from Ian’s skin slowly and Ian couldn’t help the slight groan that left his lips. Smirking, Mickey replied, _“I think it’s pretty obvious.”_

            _“Yeah, but what is this?”_

_“Do I have to explain sex to you?”_

            Ian rolled his eyes and Mickey’s smile widened brilliantly. Dipping down, Ian kissed him just to get it off his lips then pulled back again. He leaned back, his butt hitting the bed between Mickey’s legs. He asked _, “Are we together?”_

            For a long moment, Mickey just stared at him. Then he shook his head.

            _“Do you... want to be with me?”_

_“My hands were just down your pants.”_

_“No, I mean, like, seriously.”_

            Mickey sighed and ran a hand across his face. Then, very slowly, his blue eyes locked on Ian’s. He shook his head.

            Ian was frozen in place for a long moment and then he slipped off of the bed. He stumbled to his feet, drunk from the beer on Mickey’s lips. Looking around, he saw his shirt to the side of the bed and leaned over Mickey to get it.

            Mickey took the opportunity to shift forward and lay kisses on the edge of Ian’s shoulder. Ian shuddered at the contact but pulled back, trying his best to ignore the moan that came from Mickey as he fell back into the pillows. Ian slipped his shirt back on and risked one last glance at Mickey, who was looking at him in disappointment.

            _“You really have to do this?”_ Mickey asked.

            _“Yeah.”_

            With a shrug, Mickey grabbed the book back off his bedside table and flipped to the next page. Ian stood still for a moment longer, watching him, almost waiting for Mickey to change his mind. But, when he didn’t, he walked right out the door and tried his best not to slam it.

            Mandy was already gone from the kitchen and Ian took it as a blessing. Breathing deeply, he left the small apartment and barrelled out into the cold night air. It stung against his burning skin, his breath going white in the air, and froze the tears that started to run down his cheeks.

            _Stupid,_ he thought. _So fucking goddamned stupid._


	21. Chapter 21

“Black or red?” Fiona asked.

            Ian glanced up from his pillow, sighing as he caught sight of the clock out of the corner of his eye. He had to get up now if he was going to get to class on time. Then he looked at the two dresses Fiona held up. The black was slinky and sexy, the kind of dress one wore to a club. The red was high-necked with cut-outs at the waist, the thing someone wore to a dinner with a potential boyfriend.

            “What’s this for?” Ian grumbled.

            “I have a date tonight.”

            “It’s Wednesday.”

            “I know,” she said, “which means you’re actually going to have to be here tonight instead of wherever the hell you usually are on Wednesday nights.”

            Ian grumbled some more, whatever he was trying to say coming out as an unintelligible mess. He rolled up into a sitting position and rubbed his eyes. “Who’s the date with?” he asked, sleepily.

            “Adam.”

            He blinked. A little of his fatigue vanished instantly, but not enough for him to sound suitably annoyed. “Debbie’s Adam?” he asked.

            Fiona rolled her eyes. “Debbie’s interpreter, yes.”

            “You tell her about this?”

            “Why would I tell her? It’s just dinner.”

            “She likes him.”

            “She doesn’t like him.”

            “Do you know her at all?” Ian snapped, sharper than he intended. His head was pounding as if he had been drunk last night. That might have explained it all though. Someone had probably spiked his water with vodka, making him crazy and horny enough to make a move on a guy who had zero interest in him. “I’m sorry,” Ian mumbled, rubbing his eyes. He sighed and looked back at Fiona. “The red.”

            “Thanks.”

            She was about to leave when he said, “But you should talk to her about it. You know, just give her a heads up.”

            “First chance I get,” Fiona agreed. “Get up. You’ll be late again.”

            Ian mumbled more gibberish words before forcing himself to his feet and pulling on the first clothes he saw. A grey shirt, probably Lip’s, and a pair of jeans that were just a little too tight. He pulled on mismatched socks and stumbled down into the kitchen. He stole a slice of Carl’s toast, ignoring his little brother’s feeble protest by kissing him on the head, and then stared wistfully at the coffee machine.

            _“You were out late last night,”_ Debbie signed.

            Ian stared as she sipped out of her coffee cup and then shrugged.

            _“You okay?”_

_“Fine.”_

            She sipped from her coffee again and then set the half-empty cup down. _“Class go okay?”_

            Ian smiled. _“You Fiona now?”_

_“Just asking, jeez.”_ She walked away from the counter, pulling Carl with her as she headed for the backdoor. The two of them grabbed their stuff and turned to wave goodbye as they exited the door.

            Ian waved back, more focussed on the coffee cup than them as he bit into his slice of toast. Liam came lumbering into the room, still dressed in his pajamas, and wrapped his arms around Ian’s legs.

            “Hey, little man,” Ian said, ruffling his hair. “You want breakfast?”

            “I ate pop tarts!” he exclaimed.

            “Yeah? What kind?”

            “Blueberry!”

            Ian forced himself to smile as he extracted Liam from around his legs and pushed him towards the living room. With a sigh, he took the handle of the coffee cup and took a sip just as Fiona came down the stairs. She frowned at him but said nothing as she went to clear the table.

            “You going to class this morning?” she asked.

            “Do I have to?”

            “Are you sick?”

            Ian considered the question for a second and then shrugged. “Think I have a fever.”

            Fiona dumped the dishes in the sink from the other side and then leaned over the counter to peck Ian on the forehead. Then she whacked him lovingly across the head. “You’re going to school.”

            Ian grumbled as he downed the rest of the coffee.

            “Want to pick another excuse?” she asked, half sympathetic and half sarcastic. “You’re being bullied, there’s a test you haven’t studied for, your boyfriend broke up with you... umm...”

            “The last one’s pretty close.”

            “You have a boyfriend?”

            Ian wanted to swallow his words at the look on her face. He set the empty coffee cup down in the sink and said, “Not really. There’s this guy that I liked who I thought liked me and it turned out he didn’t and his sister is in my Psych class and I’d just really rather not go.”

            Fiona exhaled a sigh and waited until he looked up at her again. She offered a sympathetic half smile and then said, “Something I learned the hard way? Your education is more important than any guy. So suck it up and go to class, because he ain’t worth shit if he doesn’t want you.”

            “Thanks.”

            “I’m going to book an extra blood test because of that coffee.”

            Groaning, Ian leaned over the counter and kissed Fiona on the cheek. He smiled as he grabbed his bag off the floor where he had left it last night and exited the empty kitchen, leaving his sister alone with his youngest brother.

            And, even though he could have gone anywhere once out of the house, he caught the next bus to Evanston and resolved to sit far enough away from their usual spot that Mandy wouldn’t be able to see him in the crowd. That way he could keep his embarrassment between himself and Mickey for just a little bit longer.


	22. Chapter 22

Ian managed to avoid Mandy in Psychology by sitting near the front and not leaving until ten minutes after the class had wrapped. Then he headed straight for the library, going the long way in order to skirt the coffee shop, and wondered whether or not he was just making it worse. With all her earplugs and blankets, did she even know whether or not anything had happened the night before? Had Mickey told her like he had with the kiss?

            He gave up trying to focus on his homework an hour in and wandered aimlessly around campus until he got to the room where his Math class was. He sat outside even though the class wasn’t for another hour and a half. Opening up his notebook, he started scribbling through some of the practice problems and didn’t check any of his answers, knowing all of them were wrong.

            People started heading out into the hall and Ian pulled in his feet, scrunching up into little more than ball. The door to the classroom to his left banged against his shoulder and he winced, but didn’t move as more people came out. He tried to focus on the numbers in front of him, blinking from the unfamiliar effects of the caffeine, and found he could no longer use fatigue as an excuse.

            He was just bone tired and filled with the kind of embarrassment that made him think everyone passing knew exactly what had happened last night. Every single one of them knew that he had made out with a guy who was horny but not into him. Every single one of them knew he had run out of there like a teenage girl not getting enough respect instead of like a college guy who knew that casual sex was just part of the experience. He cursed himself for leaving.

            The crowd in the hallway thinned and eventually someone dropped down next to him. He glanced over and, seeing Mickey sitting there, immediately looked back down at the problem he was working on. One of Mickey’s fingers tapped the page and Ian realized he had written down the wrong number. With a sigh, he flipped over his pencil and started erasing his work.

            For once he was glad Mickey was deaf. Because ignoring him simply meant not looking at him, which was a lot easier than trying not to hear him. Of course, Mickey could and would probably start talking at any moment if Ian insisted on not letting him communicate through sign language. So, halfway through the problem, he gave up and looked at Mickey.

            _“I think I came off wrong last night,”_ Mickey signed.

            Ian stared at him for a second. _“You’re gonna apologize for leading me on?”_

            He snorted. _“Nah.”_ He paused for a second, searching for the words, and Ian felt more like dying just knowing that this conversation was impromptu instead of planned. Mickey licked his lips. _“I don’t want to be with you.”_

_“Yeah, thanks, go that.”_

            Mickey shook his head and put a hand over Ian’s, pushing them down into Ian’s lap. He leaned close, a little too close, and Ian knew he had been working before coming to school. He still smelled like car exhaust and hot grease, mixed with the permanent stench of alcoholic sweat.

            _“I want you,”_ he signed slowly, dragging out the words on his hands. _“God, I’ve wanted you since the very first day I saw you.”_ He leaned in and kissed Ian softly, his lips lingering even after he stopped the kiss. He sighed deeply and pulled away, his blue eyes sparkling. _“But I’m not gonna hold your hand or take you to dinner or do gay shit like that.”_

            Ian blinked. His embarrassment had evaporated with the kiss and now he was staring at Mickey like he had grown a second head. Trying to hide his laughing smile, he asked _, “So you want to kiss me but not be together?”_

            Mickey shrugged. _“Kiss. Fuck. Whatever.”_

            For a long moment, Ian just stared. Then, with a short laugh, he shook his head. _“Sorry, but that’s not gonna work for me.”_

            Disappointment flickered through Mickey’s eyes but then he smiled. An open, mischievous smile that made Ian’s heart skip several beats. _“I’m gonna wear you down, Gallagher,”_ Mickey signed. He pushed off the ground and got to his feet.

            Ian snorted. _“I’d like to see you try.”_

            Mickey licked his bottom lip and Ian couldn’t stop himself from following the line that it traced. With a wink, Mickey backed away, keeping his eyes locked on Ian’s until he was forced to turn a corner.

            Taking a deep breath, Ian banged his head back against the wall, every nerve inside of him electric. He already regretted making it into a challenge because if Mickey gave him a look like that just one more time, he was sure he was going to crumble into pieces.


	23. Chapter 23

After English the next day, Ian stopped by the coffee shop where Mandy worked. She was behind the counter, working with one of the machines on the back wall, and when Ian got to the front of the line she still hadn’t turned around. The barista asked him what he wanted.

            “Can I talk to Mandy?”

            The girl behind the cash register glanced back at Mandy, who hadn’t seemed to have heard them. Then she tugged on the edge of Mandy’s apron and she looked at Ian quickly. “I’m taking my break,” she said and then came out from behind the counter.

            Ian followed her to the nearest table. She didn’t meet his eyes as they sat down and kept staring at her hands. Everything Ian had been feeling that day, from his giddy nervousness over seeing Mickey again to his slight pride at not having actually been rejected, boiled down into concern in the space of a few seconds. He reached across the table but she flinched backwards.

            “Mandy,” Ian said slowly. “You all right?”

            “Fine,” she replied, forcing a smile. Her blue eyes shot up to his, tinged with sadness. “What’s up? Why weren’t you in class yesterday?”

            “Umm...” Ian hesitated before changing the subject. “I didn’t have sex with your brother.”

            She gave him a look. “And that made you skip class because...?”

            He sighed. “Long story. Short version is, it’s not gonna happen.”

            “Why not?”

            “He wants to sleep with me. I want to date him.”

            “You know, it is possible to do both.”

            “He doesn’t want to do both.”

             “Sounds like Mick.”

            An uncomfortable silence fell between them and she licked her lips quickly. Getting to her feet, she said, “Well, I should go.”

            “You just sat down.”

            “I know, I...” she trailed off.

            Ian got to his feet and took a step closer to her, careful not to spook her. “What’s wrong, Mandy?” She shrugged and he let his eyes flicker off of hers and across the little skin that was exposed in her uniform. Lines of purple bruises peeked out from under the edge of her short sleeves. Her makeup, while normally heavy, seemed patchy around her eyes as if an extra layer had been used.

            Slowly, Ian reached up and brushed the makeup away from under her eyes. He swore as foundation came off on his fingers, revealing a big dark ring under her eye. “Mandy...” he began.

            She batted away his hand. “I know, okay?”

            “You can’t let him do this to you.”

            Scoffing, she asked, “You think I let him do this? That I just stand there, stock still, waiting to be hit? Is that what you think of me?”

            Ian sighed. “That’s not what I meant.”

            She shook her head and took a step away from him. “Look, I can handle myself. This isn’t the first time that a guy’s hit me and it’s probably not going to be the last, so you can just-”

            “If that’s true, why are you so torn up about it?”

            She swallowed the rest of her sentence, her eyes darting away from Ian’s. He waited patiently and tried not to look around, knowing that doing so would only make her more self-conscious. Finally, she shrugged.

            “I don’t know, okay?”

            “Mandy...”

            “What do you want me to say?” she hissed. Her eyes flashed violently and she was the first to look around the shop. No one was really paying attention to them, most people engrossed on their laptops or deafened by their headphones. She took a deep breath and met his eyes again. “I have to go back to work. I can’t get into this right now.”

            “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

            She licked her lips. “I couldn’t walk after, okay?” He couldn’t find the words to reply so she added quickly, “It’s not a big deal. Things happen and he was mad and-”

            “It is a big deal.”

            “Just... drop it.”

            Mandy took a step back and quickly made her way back behind the counter before Ian could say another word. He stood there for a long moment, staring at her as she turned back around to work on the machines against the back wall. Her shoulders were shaking almost imperceptibly.

            Slowly, he slumped back down into his seat and started to get out his work. If she didn’t want to talk about it, he could at least be there for her. In case she needed him. In case anything. And it killed him to get up a few hours later and head to class without her looking at him again, but he had no other choice.


	24. Chapter 24

Ian took his seat beside Mickey rather late. The professor was already there, shuffling through his notes in preparation for class to start. Mickey was looking at him out the corner of his eye, already mischievous, and Ian felt it was better to breach the subject now than later.

            _“Mandy tell you?”_ he signed.

            Mickey’s smile fell immediately and Ian took that as his answer.

            _“You gonna do anything about it?”_

_“Whaddya want me to do? Kill the guy?”_ Mickey replied. _“Happily. Get a shovel and we’ll burry him in pieces down by the river.”_

            Ian just stared.

            With a sigh, Mickey said, _“She says she’s fine. What am I supposed to do?”_

            Ian shrugged. He had no idea what Mickey was supposed to do. He just knew that his head was swimming with different plans on how to get the guy thrown in jail without Mandy’s testimony. Or maybe he would take Mickey up on that offer and show up at the apartment tonight with a shovel in hand, ready to cut the guy to pieces.

            Mickey’s hand came down on Ian’s knee, patting it comfortingly. Ian took a deep breath, focussing on the professor as he started the lecture and he quickly began signing for Mickey. And Mickey wrote his notes without moving his hand from Ian’s knee, its warm pressure the only real comfort that Ian had at the moment.

            He got lost in the words of the lecture, letting Mickey take all the notes as he casually drew circles with his fingertips on Ian’s knee. The fabric of his jeans rubbed against his skin as Mickey traced patterns of curlicues and spirals against his lower knee.

            Shifting slightly, Ian gave Mickey a look as his hand moved up his leg. A look that Ian was pretty sure meant _not now_ in every language except for Mickey’s. Mickey’s fingers rested, still, against the inside of Ian’s thigh for a moment. He stopped moving his hand and Ian let it stay there as he continued signing, trying not to let Mickey know how much it bothered him.

            The class cut off at the halfway point and Ian dropped his hands, his thoughts still swirling. Mickey’s fingers moved further up his leg, drawing a long line up the inside of his thigh, stopping just short of his crotch. Ian gave him another look, but Mickey was looking down, moving his fingers back towards Ian’s knee, sending shots of electricity through Ian’s veins.

            Ian shifted his chair away slightly, but that only made Mickey grab onto his thigh. The tips of his shortened fingernails tickled as they swirled across the inside of his thigh. Ian gave him another look. The last look of warning, he promised himself, and Mickey stopped with his hand on Ian’s knee once again.

            With a sigh, Ian let that be good enough and moved his chair back to its original spot. Dr. Dhawan started the class again and Ian started signing and Mickey started drawing another line up the inside of Ian’s thigh. Curling waves rubbed across the fabric of his jeans, making Ian distinctly, heavily uncomfortable to be in a classroom.

            He looked towards Mickey, who smiled ever so slightly, but kept his face carefully neutral as he watched Ian’s hands. Ian felt a twitch in his pants but luckily Mickey’s hand was far enough away that it didn’t matter. In a show of protest, Ian dropped his hands midsentence and Mickey’s eyes met his.

            Ian made the challenge clear in his eyes. He started to write his own notes, ignoring the heat of Mickey’s fingers especially as they inched closer to his crotch. Taking a deep breath, he waited for Mickey to move his hand back down but he didn’t. He cupped his hand against Ian’s crotch, holding all of him in one hand, and Ian had to bite his tongue to stop himself from gasping at the feel of Mickey’s fingers down there.

            He could feel himself getting hard under Mickey’s touch and, even though Mickey made no move to do anything else, Ian knew he had to move now or lose the game right away. He kicked out with his legs, moving his chair back from the table violently and leaned back on the back legs. Now his crotch was in full view of almost everyone in the room, as were his legs, and the professor was standing right in front of them.

            Cocking an eyebrow, Ian made the clear challenge asking Mickey what he wanted to do. And Mickey, breathing just a touch harder than he usually did, conceded defeat and placed his hand back on the table. Ian let his chair drop back down onto the ground and dropped his pen to continue interpreting.

            Mickey smirked seeing Ian shift in his chair, trying to stem the start of an erection. Ian shook his head, which only made Mickey’s smirk widen and dropped his hands once again. With a gesture of mock surrender, Mickey wiped the smile from his face and waited for Ian to continue signing.

            And, despite himself, he did.


	25. Chapter 25

Ian came home after his appointment on Friday, amazed that he had enough self-control to reject Mandy’s invitation to come back to the apartment for takeout. He walked in through the backdoor and dropped his bag, not bothering to look up until Fiona spoke.

            “Hey, Ian,” she said. “How was school?”

            “School was- ” He cut himself off as he saw Fiona standing in the kitchen, a cup of coffee in her hand, and Adam sitting across from her on a stool, also sipping coffee. He took off his jacket and asked, “Debbie here?”

            “Upstairs,” Fiona said, missing the point of the question entirely.

            Ian glanced pointedly towards Adam. “You tell her yet?”

            “I will.”

            “You will?”

            Adam laughed in his good-natured manner and Ian fixed his glare on him. Adam said, “Look, I really don’t think it’s anything that you need to worry about. Debbie and I have a very professional relationship, we’re friends, but she understands that I have my own life outside of the school.”

            “Which one of us do you think knows her better?” Ian snapped.

            “Fiona,” he replied.

            “Yeah. No. Wow. You’re right. She does. It’s not like I was the first person in this house to learn sign language or the best at it or like when I disappeared last year, Fiona somehow managed to forget to use sign language for months around Debbie and neglected to check in with her old translator and basically forgot she was deaf at all.”

            “Ian,” Fiona snapped.

            “You did.”

            “I was a little preoccupied wondering where the hell you were,” she replied. She slammed her coffee cup down on the table, sending the hot liquid sloshing over her hand. She didn’t even wince. “Looking for you. Calling hospitals and morgues every goddamned day. I called Frank. I called _Monica_ looking for you. Do you understand that?”

            Ian swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I understand it. And if we’re going to stand here and try not to blame each other for everything that went wrong last year, we can. But that has nothing to do with the fact that you should not be dating Debbie’s translator. I don’t care if she has a crush on him or not. You just shouldn’t.”

            There was a long silence in the room as the two siblings stared at each other. Then Adam cleared his throat. “I think I have a good grasp of your family,” he said. “And when it comes to a family like this, with a child who’s deaf, it’s always better to bring someone in who knows the challenges as compared to someone who doesn’t. And I think-”

            “I think you should shut up and get the hell out of my house.”

            “Ian. Did you take your meds this morning?”

            Ian glared at Fiona. “Yes. But thank you for once again treating me like an incompetent child.”

            She sighed heavily and moved as he did, catching the sleeve of his shirt just as he started up the stairs. Ian stopped, looking down at her with nothing but fatigue, all of his energy wasted on that one outburst. His skin felt electric, as if simply by spending so long unemotional everything was ten times heavier when the meds settled. He wondered for a brief second if that’s why it was so hard to pull himself away from Mickey.

            “I’ll tell her,” Fiona said. “We’re just drinking coffee down here, nothing serious. She knows he’s here. And I’ll talk to her about it. As soon as I can.”

            “Why not right now?”

            She gave him a look like that was obvious.

            “I’m sorry.” Ian sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s been a really long week.”

            She nodded and pulled him forward, kissing him on top of his red head. “You’ve been doing great. I’m really proud of you, sweetie. You got anything you want me to help you with, homework wise?”

            Ian shook his head. “I got it. Thanks.”

            “Anytime.”

            He pulled away from her and made his way up the stairs, bristling when a few minutes later he heard her laughing with Adam. But he forced his heart to calm down. Resisting his sex drive was sending him over the edge. Fiona would talk to Debbie. He was sure of it.

            Flopping down on his bed, he closed his eyes. _Just for a minute,_ he told himself. But he ended up sleeping until dinner time.


	26. Chapter 26

“How’d you get wifi anyways?”

            “Stole the neighbour’s,” Mandy said as she flipped through the Psych textbook, looking for the answer to one of the questions on the quiz. “Mickey hacked it.”

            “He hacked a wifi network?”

            She glanced over at him. “That impress you?”

            Ian rolled his eyes and said, “Just get me the answer.”

            “Touchy.”

            He ignored her and glanced towards Mickey’s slightly ajar bedroom door. When Mickey had come in to see the two of them studying, he had told Ian to come in after to go over the History notes. And Ian was more than a little afraid of what exactly he was going to find when he went in there.

            “Here! It says... 2002.”

            Ian clicked the answer and then scrolled down to submit the quiz. He waited while the crappy wifi tumbled to the acceptance of the submission screen, logged out, and then turned the computer towards Mandy.

            As she was typing in her password, she said, “You can go, if you want. I got this.”

            “I should help.”

            “We already found all the answers. I’ll be fine.” She hit enter and then looked up at him. “It’s his bedroom, not a black hole.”

            Ian rolled his eyes. “Whose side are you on?”

            “I honestly can’t say.”

            She smiled and then pushed him playfully from the stool. He got to his feet and walked by, squeezing her shoulder as he passed. Then he stared at the slightly ajar door and hesitated just before it. He peeked inside and saw Mickey sitting up on his bed, biting his bottom lip while he scribbled something in a notebook.

            Ian waved as he stepped inside and the motion caught Mickey’s eye. He looked up with a mischievous smile that made Ian’s toes curl, finished what he was working on, and then tossed the notebook to the side. He patted the bed at his side and raised an eyebrow.

            Ignoring him, Ian walked across the room and left the door slightly open. He pulled the chair out from the desk, turned it around in the foot of space between it and the bed, and sat down facing Mickey. He opened his History notebook to the last page they had done together and looked at Mickey.

            Mickey gave him a look. _“Come on,”_ he signed. _“We can’t share notes if you’re over there.”_

_“We could go to the kitchen.”_

            He pushed out his bottom lip with his tongue and slid further down the bed, one leg swinging off the side. His eyes stayed on Ian and Ian began to find his skill at holding eye contact more than a little unnerving.

            _“Wanna make this more interesting?”_

_“How?”_

_“Guess the information.”_

            Ian rolled his eyes. _“How am I supposed to guess the information I’m missing?”_

_“I’ll ask a question about the notes you missed and you have to answer.”_

            Ian stared at him for a very long moment before signing, _“And what happens if I get the answer wrong?”_

_“You lose a piece of clothing.”_

            Despite himself, he smiled. _“I’m not doing that.”_

_“If you’re right, I lose a piece of clothing.”_

            He shook his head.

            _“Come on, Gallagher. You afraid you’ll lose?”_

_“Afraid I’ll win.”_

            Mickey raised his eyebrows. _“Don’t think you can control yourself around me?”_

            Exhaling deeply, Ian licked his bottom lip. Mickey kept looking at him the same way, the challenge implicit in the way he held himself. Ian said, _“Shoot.”_

            The two stared at each other for a long moment before Mickey picked up his notebook. He studied it for a moment, his tongue tracing the curve of his upper lip, and then signed, _“Who died to start World War I?”_

            Ian rolled his eyes. _“Archduke Franz Ferdinand.”_

            Mickey nodded and pulled a sock off his left foot while Ian jotted the name down in his notebook. Despite the fact that he knew that one. Everyone who had passed the eleventh grade knew that. He looked back up at Mickey, one eyebrow raised.

            _“Who first declared war?”_

_“Austria-Hungary.”_

            Mickey lost the other sock and then wiggled his toes at Ian, who did his best not to laugh.

            _“Why did Russia get into the war so quickly?”_

_“An alliance.”_

_“With who?”_

            Ian stumbled, rewinding his brain back to Thursday’s class and what he had been signing. And Mickey’s hand on his crotch. He bit his bottom lip.

            _“Give up?”_

_“England?”_

            Mickey gave him a look. _“Yes, because the English shot the Archduke of Austria.”_

_“Fine. Who?”_

_“Sock first.”_

            Rolling his eyes, Ian bent over and pulled a grey sock from his foot. He dangled it in the air before letting it drop to the ground and gave Mickey a _you happy?_ look.

            _“Serbia.”_

            Ian wrote that down.

            _“What countries were part of the Triple Entente?”_

            He gave Mickey a look. _“Come on. Something harder.”_ He wrote the three countries down in his notes as Mickey raised his eyebrows again.

            _“So you want to strip for me?”_

            Ian bit down on his smile. Shaking his head, he replied, _“France, England, and Russia.”_

            Mickey grabbed his shirt by the back of the collar and pulled it off in one fluid motion. He dropped it to the side, exposing his bare stomach to the cold air of the unheated room, and for a second, Ian forgot that he was trying his best not to look interested. His eyes flickered across Mickey’s pale chest and then reached his teasing blue eyes.

            He immediately looked away, clearing his throat. He signed, _“Next question.”_

_“Triple Alliance.”_

_“Austria-Hungary, Germany...”_ Ian trailed off. He tapped his pen against his notebook, but refused to look back up at Mickey. After a long moment, he bent over and pulled off his other sock, tossing it onto the floor of the room.

            _“Italy,”_ Mickey finished.

            Ian wrote it down and then looked up at Mickey, waiting for the next question. Mickey was looking down at his notebook, completely comfortable sitting shirtless on his bed, and Ian let his eyes wander to the small section of his boxers that was visible over the waistband of his jeans. Blue plaid.

            Mickey snapped his fingers and Ian looked up, blushing wildly. Mickey’s expression was getting progressively more cocky every second they sat there and Ian had an urge to reach forward and kiss the smirk off his face. _“Next question,”_ Ian signed, ignoring his own embarrassment.

            _“Why did England join the war?”_

_“An alliance,”_ Ian replied and Mickey just stared at him. He was lost in those blue eyes for a second as he squinted, trying to remember the answer. _“Russia?”_ he guessed.

            Mickey shook his head.

            _“Who?”_

_“Shirt.”_

            With a sigh, Ian pulled his shirt off and flung it onto the floor. He looked back at Mickey, annoyed at being cold, but he instantly heated up when he saw the look on Mickey’s face. The hunger in his eyes as they skittered across his abs. Mickey looked up, blue eyes like fire, and then forced himself to look away for a second. He shifted a bit on the bed and set his notebook down over his lap.

            _“Belgium.”_

            Ian wrinkled his nose. _“Really?”_

            Mickey nodded. _“Germany marched through Belgium to get to France and England went to protect Belgium.”_ He scanned his notes for a second, then asked, _“What kind of warfare was it?”_

            _“Trench warfare?”_

            Nodding, Mickey unbuttoned his jeans and slid them off. They fell to the floor with a smack and Ian forced his eyes to follow the sound instead of looking at the blue plaid boxers they exposed.

            Neither of them spoke for a minute, mainly because Ian wasn’t looking up. His body buzzed with tension and when he finally looked up at Mickey and met his blue eyes, he felt the same desire staring back at him.

            His phone buzzed and gave him another excuse to look down. Fiona reminding him to pick up milk on the way home. _“I have to go,”_ he signed, standing up quickly.

            _“We’re not done.”_

_“Yeah, family emergency.”_

            Mickey’s face twisted in concern for a second before he replaced it with his carefully cultivated neutral expression. He threw his notebook to the side and then laid back, sprawling over the queen-sized bed. The urge to crawl on top of him and kiss him rumbled through Ian.

            Taking a deep breath, he bent over and picked up his shirt. He could feel Mickey watching him, his eyes against his skin. He put on his t-shirt and balled up his socks in his hand before heading for the door. As he went, he grabbed Mickey’s notebook, intent on finishing the notes later.

            If Mickey had any problem with it, Ian didn’t turn around to find out.


	27. Chapter 27

Ian dropped into his seat beside Mandy the next morning just as the lecture started. As he scrambled to get out his materials, she said, “You sure ran out yesterday.”

            “You saw that?”

            “I was sitting in the living room.”

            “Oh.”

            He let the conversation fall into silence as he pulled out his notebook and started scribbling the notes at double speed. He knew that they would be nearly illegible even to his own eyes, but he could always fix that at the library. The silence lasted a few more minutes before Mandy spoke again.

            “I need to ask you something,” she said. Then, reconsidering, corrected, “Tell you something.”

            “What?”

            “I’m going out with Lip.”

            Ian’s pen slipped and the end of his word became a long line across the page. He looked up at Mandy, disbelief cloudy in his eyes, and licked his lips. Knowing he shouldn’t bring it up, he asked gently, “And Kenyatta?”

            She shrugged. “Dumped him.”

            “That couldn’t have gone well.”

            She shrugged again and, for the first time that day, he really looked at her. Her usually heavy makeup was lighter and she was no longer using foundation to cover up her fading bruises. She looked like she’d been in a boxing ring for weeks, covered in bruises both large and small, some of which Ian had never even noticed before. They ranged from day-old purple to week-old yellow and she wore all of them with pride.

            “Good for you,” Ian said sincerely.

            She winced at the compliment and then forced a smile. “And then Lip asked me out and I said yes.”

            “Yeah... bad idea.”

            “Why?” she asked, her eyes flickering over to him.

            He stared at her for a second, searching for the words. “He’s not the kind of guy you’re looking for.” He paused and then added, “He’s not good enough for you.”

            She smiled. “Thank you, but if he’s better than the last one-”

            “If you’re only criteria for a boyfriend is that he doesn’t treat you like a punching bag, you’re still going to end up fucking a lot of losers who don’t give a shit about you,” Ian interrupted. His voice was calm despite his angry words. “There are plenty of guys who would never dare touch a woman who are still complete and utter assholes.”

            “And your brother is one of them?”

            “Yes.”

            She was silent for a second, clicking her pen on and off. Then she asked, “Evidence?”

            “For starters, he asked you out and he has a girlfriend.”

            “He broke up with Karen.”

            “He...” Ian trailed off. He hadn’t seen his brother in over a week, so he doubted that his brother had seen Karen in over a week. “If he did, and I wouldn’t trust that because the two of them have been fucking since junior year of high school and haven’t stopped yet, he did it by text. Which makes him just as much of an asshole.”

            “I can handle a breakup texter,” she said. “I’ve dated worse.”

            “I want you to date better.”

            “Well, it’s not your decision.”

            “Then why bring it up at all?”

            She bit her bottom lip and then didn’t say anything else. Sighing heavily, Ian settled back down into his seat and looked up at the lecture notes. He had missed so many by this point that note-taking was useless. Dropping his pen, he looked back over at Mandy, trying to figure out how to get through to her.

            Lip being a dick wasn’t exactly a hard concept to grasp.

            “He asked Karen to suck my dick when I was a sophomore.”

            “And she did it?”

            Ian nodded.

            Mandy laughed. “How’d that feel?”

            “Not the point.”

            “Says more about her than him, if you ask me.”

            “It says more about her that her boyfriend asked her to suck his brother’s dick?”

            Mandy shrugged as she shaded in a heart on her notebook.

            “I’m not going to talk you out of this, am I?”

            “Nope,” she replied.

            Ian sighed again and then looked away from her, trying to at least focus on what the professor was saying.


	28. Chapter 28

Walking through the backdoor of the house Wednesday afternoon, Ian was surprised to find Lip standing in the kitchen making a peanut butter sandwich. He closed the two halves and then handed it down under the counter. A second later, Liam scrambled out, chewing noisily, and ran into the living room.

            “Hey,” Lip said as Ian slammed the door. “Wanna a sandwich?”

            “Where’s Fiona?” Ian asked as he slipped onto a stool at the counter.

            “Carl punched a kid.”

            Ian let out a low whistle as Lip started on another sandwich. He stared at the spreading peanut butter for a second and then said, “Heard you broke up with Karen.”

            “Uhh...” he mumbled as he licked the knife before putting it in the jelly. He started spreading the red goop and said, “Yeah. Like... Saturday or Sunday.”

            “Why?”

            He shrugged. “It was time.”

            “So it wasn’t so you could fuck Mandy?”

            A smile appeared on Lip’s lips. “Might’ve been a factor.”

            Closing his eyes, Ian looked for the words that might get through to his brother. He had thought Mandy would’ve been the easier of the two, but since Monday she had been avoiding the conversation like it was some sort of new-fangled fad diet. He took a deep breath and looked up at his brother, who had just stuffed his sandwich between his teeth.

            “Want one?” he mumbled around the bread.

            Ian shook his head. “You can’t breakup with Karen in order to fuck Mandy and then get back to fucking Karen as soon as you’re done with Mandy.”

            “Sure I can,” he replied. “Do it all the time.” Then, seeing the serious expression in his little brother’s eyes, he sighed. “Look, Karen’s been really busy pretending to take care of her baby and I got bored with it. So I dumped her. Not my fault Mandy’s hot and you introduced me to her.”

            “Oh, so you’re just gonna knock her up and dump her too?”

            “I didn’t knock up Karen,” he replied, ignoring the entire moral standing of the comment.

            Ian bit back a sigh and looked for a different angle as Lip held up the knife, gesturing to the bread in front of him. Ian nodded just to keep his brother there as his phone buzzed in his pocket.

            _What’re you wearing?_

            Mickey.

            Swallowing a smile, Ian ignored the text and looked back at his brother. “If I let you do this, and I’m not saying that I will-”

            “It’s not your call who I date,” he replied, annoyance creeping into his voice.

            Buzz.

            _I’m thinking of the way you taste._

_Old soap, burnt coffee, and just a hint of something sour._

Ian couldn’t help smiling this time. Still he didn’t answer. He looked up at Lip, trying to remember where they were in the conversation. “Promise you’re gonna make an effort to be good to her. She hasn’t had an easy life.”

            Lip licked the knife. “Neither have we.”

            “Her last boyfriend was an abusive asshole.”

            “Then she can only really trade up.”

            Ian opened his mouth to reply, then looked down at his phone.

            _I want your cock in my mouth._

He locked the screen and put it on the counter. Running a hand through his hair, he said, “I know you’re not gonna hurt her. But I need to know you’re actually gonna try to know her. Date her. Don’t just call her at three in the morning when you’re-”

            _My hands could be on your ass right now._

“Horny,” he said, his voice squeaking on the word.

            Lip gave him a weird look, but Ian locked the screen before he could see what was on it. Finishing the sandwich, he tossed it up on the counter and then threw the knife in the sink. “I like her, okay? I do. And I’ll date her for as long as you want me to before I sleep with her.” He paused. “Deal?”

            Ian stared at him for a moment, unsure, and then looked down at his buzzing phone. He shifted slightly in his seat, his eyes glancing over some of the words and leaving out others. Licking his lips, he said, “What if we double?”

            “Double?”

            He shrugged. “Just for the first date.”

            Lip gave him a look. “You’re that worried?”

            “She’s my best friend.”

            “She’s- ” Lip cut himself off as Ian’s phone buzzed again. Glancing down, Ian saw what Mickey had sent a second before Lip grabbed the phone. He batted at Lip’s arm, but his brother stepped back out of reach, staring open-mouthed at the picture of Mickey’s dick.

            He laughed and tossed the phone back. “Oh my god,” he said. He rubbed his eyes. “I did not want to see that.”

            Ian blushed bright red. “Then don’t look at my phone.”

            “Excuse me for not knowing you were sexting in the middle of what I thought was a serious conversation.”

            Ian sighed. “I wasn’t sexting. He was sexting.”

            Lip smiled. “This the guy you want to double with?” He didn’t pause long enough for Ian to answer. “Because, I mean, I’d love to actually see his face.”

            Ian bit his bottom lip as he quickly deleted the picture from his phone. He set his phone in his lap and forced himself to look up at his brother, who was still laughing. “Yeah. Him.”

            “Fine,” Lip replied. “Just tell him to wear some clothes.”

            Ian rolled his eyes as Lip walked away. He picked up his phone again as Mickey sent him another text saying, _You like that?_

            Ian texted, _I need you to come out with me and my brother and Mandy on Friday._

There was a minute’s delay, then, _You missin’ the point of this, Gallagher?_

_Doesn’t count as a date, just need your help._

_Whatever._

Then the texts stopped coming and Ian breathed a sigh of relief, pocketing his phone. He picked up the sandwich Lip had made for him and bit in, shifting awkwardly on the stool as his mind went rogue and replayed Mickey’s texts.


	29. Chapter 29

Ian was slipping on his third shirt when Lip knocked on the door of his room. As Ian started doing up buttons, Lip said, “You know, mini-golf doesn’t really require a collar.”

            Undoing the button he had just done up, he tossed the shirt to the side and looked at his brother. Lip was wearing nothing special. A white t-shirt without profanity on it and his nicest pair of jeans –meaning there was only one hole in them.

            He sat down on the bottom bunk and said, “What’s the big deal anyways? Aren’t you dating this guy?”

            “It’s complicated.”

            “Dick pics aren’t really complicated.”

            “Shut up.”

            Ian grabbed a dark green t-shirt and pulled it on over his head.

            “Perfect,” Lip said. “Let’s go.”

            “You have no idea what I’m wearing.”

            He looked up from his phone. “It’s perfect. Let’s go.”

            Ian hesitated a moment. The house was abnormally quiet. Fiona was out. Debbie was babysitting the boys downstairs, watching some horror movie that they had already seen a hundred times. He closed his eyes for a second and looked down at the shirt and his good jeans and battered sneakers.

            “You sure?”

            “Stop being such a girl.”

            Ian threw a pillow, which Lip dodged, and then headed for the door. Lip followed after him, content to keep texting as they walked down the stairs. Ian kissed Debbie, Carl, and Liam on the tops of their heads before grabbing his leather jacket off the coat rack.

            Lip whistled. “Leather. Must be serious.”

            “I’m gonna kill you.”

            “You’re the one who wanted to come.”

            Ian swallowed his non-existent comeback and headed out the front door. They boarded the bus for Evanston, sitting side-by-side in silence. Ian glanced over at Lip’s phone. “Who are you texting?” he asked.

            “Karen.”

            “You’re kidding.”

            Lip rolled his eyes. “We’re friends. I’m allowed to have friends who are girls and date Mandy, right? Or was that in the hundred page instruction manual you gave me that I forgot to read?”

            Ian sighed, resting his head back against the bus window. He tried to be more worried about Mandy than he was for himself, but he was starting to get the feeling that this whole double date had been a terrible idea. Mickey had spent most of their last History class together making fun of mini-golf instead of hitting on him. In fact, since Wednesday, Mickey had mostly been radio silent. Something that shouldn’t have bugged Ian at all.

            But it did.

            Because it made him think that whatever Mickey had planned for mini-golf was going to be a thousand times worse than sexting him in the middle of the day.

            They got off at the bus terminal and switched to the line that would bring them to Mickey and Mandy’s apartment. Ian went up the stairs first and waited by the door until Lip caught up. Then, after a moment of nothing, Lip looked up and asked, “You gonna knock?”

            “You gonna stop texting Karen?”

            Lip sighed and pocketed his phone.

            Ian knocked.

            The large metal door shuddered and slid to the side, revealing Mickey in a light blue t-shirt and jeans that were painstakingly ripped to strings across the knees. He signed, _“Come in,”_ and stepped back from the door.

            Lip gave Ian a curious look, which he ignored.

            _“Mandy’s still struggling into her heels.”_

            Lip just stood there, his hands fluttering at his sides like his knowledge of sign language was restricted to Debbie specifically. Rolling his eyes, Ian replied, _“How much longer?”_

            Mickey shrugged. _“Want something to drink?”_

            “Got beer?” Lip said, out loud.

            He immediately looked like he recognized his mistake, but Mickey was already heading towards the fridge. Ian met his brother’s glance and said, “He’s really good at reading lips.”

            “Think he can teach Debbie?”

            Ian rolled his eyes.

            Mickey came back and tossed the beer to Lip. _“At least one of you freaks drinks.”_

            “Oh, Ian-” Lip cut himself off at his brother’s glare and swallowed his words. He shook his head and said, “He’s a freak.”

            Mickey gave him a weird look, which he then shifted to Ian. Ian ignored him, looking down at the floor, shuffling his feet. Something about the way Lip looked between them must have clicked in Mickey’s head, because he reached forward and pulled Ian forward by the belt loops. Their hips knocked together and Mickey kissed him teasingly.

            He pulled back with a smile.

            And Ian mentally prepared himself for a lot worse.

            Then Mandy exited her room, wearing strappy heels and a black dress pulled low over a dark purple bra. She smiled at Lip, shot a curious glance at how close Ian was standing to Mickey, and then said, “Ready to go?”

            Ian nodded and took the opportunity to step away. Mickey took the opportunity to let his fingers graze against the front of Ian’s jeans as he turned. Ian started walking towards the front door, ignoring the way Lip looked like he was about to laugh and Mandy looked like she was enjoying this way too much and the feeling of Mickey’s eyes on his ass.

            The four of them piled into Mickey’s car with Lip and Mandy sharing the backseat. They started talking about the music as soon as the radio turned on and Mickey stayed mercifully silent, focussed on the road. Ian kept glancing over him, watching the way his muscled arms curved when he turned the wheel and the way his left leg rested crooked against the door.

            They pulled up to the mini-golf course and Ian tore his eyes away before Mickey turned off the car. Ian got out too quickly, fumbling with his seatbelt for a quick second, then standing up on the hard pavement. The wind whipped through the air and Mandy shivered violently. Lip wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.

            “Whose idea was it to go mini-golfing in October?” Mandy asked.

            “Lip’s,” Ian replied.

            Mickey started walking in and the three of them followed him, Ian keeping as much distance as he could. Lip whispered, “You should probably actually stand next to your boyfriend. Or, you know, pretend you care about him at all. Should I be the one lecturing you about being nice to my date’s sibling?”

            “Shut up,” Ian breathed out.

            Lip pushed him toward the counter.

            “Four,” Ian said to the attendant, who abruptly stopped his staring match with Mickey. He named a price and Ian started pulling out cash from his wallet. Lip slipped his hand forward, dropping enough for him and Mandy. Mickey beat him to the punch and dropped the rest of the price on the counter.

            Four putters were handed to them along with four balls. Ian held them out in his hand. Mandy took the yellow, Lip the blue, and Mickey the green, leaving him with the hot pink one. He pocketed it and signed, _“Let’s go.”_

            Lip at least seemed to understand that.

            The game started off easily enough. Holes one and two went off without a hitch and Ian started to lose some of his nervousness. Lip was nice, for once in his entire life, and Mandy actually seemed happy to have someone paying attention to her. Ian tried not to let it curl his stomach that he didn’t know how long Lip would be able to keep that up.

            Then on the eighth hole Mickey miraculously forgot how to properly hold a golf club. His fingers fumbled over the metal edges and he stared down at the ball like it was a foreign entity. _“Seriously?”_ Ian signed.

            Mickey looked back at him with feigned innocence. _“Help me?”_

            Ian bit his bottom lip and then saw the look on his brother’s face. Of course of all the sentences that Lip could choose to recognize, that would be the one he knew. Mandy was also giving him a look, a slight smirk on her face.

            _“You are on his side,”_ Ian signed to her.

            She shrugged.

            Shaking his head, he walked over to Mickey and adjusted his hands on the club. His fingers sparked where they touched his tattooed flesh, adjusting the way Mickey’s fingers turned around the club. Mickey moved his hands slowly, curling over the length of the club’s shaft. His hands slipped down and back up more than once, but his expression was carefully neutral.

            Ian pressed his hands down around Mickey’s, keeping them in place. And, deciding that two could play at this game, he got behind Mickey and wrapped his arms around him. He swung the club experimentally, feeling Mickey’s body respond to his own movements, their hips moving in perfect sync. He shifted up behind him, his crotch right against Mickey’s ass and felt Mickey tense.

            Smirking slightly, Ian took the shot and banked the ball off the corner right into the hole. He let go of the club and stretched backwards, rocking his hips into Mickey. Mickey moved forward almost immediately, turning around with a sparkle in his eyes. He signed, _“Cheating.”_

_“All’s fair in love and war.”_

_“This is war.”_

            Ian smiled and inclined his head, conceding the point. Mickey walked to the other side of the hole, crossing his arms tightly over his chest as Lip stepped up to the start of the hole. The two of them stared at each other, Ian smirking at the obvious tension in Mickey’s body, and trying to stem the thrill running through his own.

            The rest of the evening was a practice in covert touches. Mickey would brush too close to Ian, his hand touching all the most sensitive parts of Ian’s body. And Ian retaliated, standing too close when Mickey was making a shot, leaning in to Mickey’s neck just to let his warm breath skitter across his skin, and licking his lips whenever he caught Mickey staring at them.

            He lost count of how many times he’d been flipped off.

            After the game, they sat down at one of the picnic tables and Mickey sat right next to him, their thighs brushing. Ian glanced over at him, ignoring whatever Mandy was signing, and waited for Mickey to place his hand on his leg. But he didn’t. He just sat there, their jeans touching, and ate when the food came.

            Being close to Mickey without him trying to turn him on was almost worse. Ian was used to being felt up and heavily hit on. He wasn’t used to Mickey’s heat right next to him. His shoulder knocking into him whenever he shifted. His foot banging against his as it swung ever so slightly above the ground.

            Ian managed to talk Lip out of taking the Milkoviches home, claiming the bus ride back was too long. Mandy was nice enough about it, kissing Lip on the cheek as Mickey pulled the car to a stop in front of the bus station.

            Ian moved to leave and Mickey’s hand came down on his thigh. Very, very high on his thigh. Ian tried to breathe out the sudden tension in his body as he looked over at Mickey whose eyes were singing a very, very obvious question.

            Leaning over, Ian kissed him quickly but as he pulled back, Mickey’s hand caught on the back of his neck. Mickey pulled him in, kissing him slowly, his tongue teasing across his lips before dipping inside his mouth. Ian shuddered, falling into the kiss despite himself and pushing forward just as Mickey’s hand slipped from the back of his neck.

            Mickey broke the kiss. _“Goodnight,”_ he signed.

            Momentarily stunned, it took Ian a second to get out of the car. He slammed the door of the car behind him, feeling a little shaky on his legs. Lip gave him a look, then shook his head with a smile before leading the way to the bus leaving for Chicago.


	30. Chapter 30

Lip and Ian tiptoed through the front door, careful not to let it bang against the front wall. Light flooded towards them from the living room and as they stepped out of the mudroom, Fiona whirled on them.

            “WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?” she shouted. She looked between both of them quickly, eyes wide with desperation. Her hair was tangled into a knot on the top of her head. “I’ve been texting you non-stop for the last forty minutes.”

            Lip quickly glanced at his phone as Ian said, “What’s wrong?”

            “Debbie’s gone.”

            “What?” Lip asked.

            Fiona sniffed. “I told her to have Liam in bed by eight and then get her and Carl in bed by nine and I came home just before eleven with Adam-”

            “You didn’t tell her,” Ian said and his words fell into the panicked silence of the room.

            “I didn’t have time.”

            Ian swore.

            “We were making out in the kitchen and she came downstairs and she just... I don’t know. Okay? She ran back upstairs and I ran after her and she wouldn’t come out of her room, so I went back down to make Adam leave and when I went back to check on her she was gone.” Fiona stopped to suck in air. “I don’t know where the hell she is. She’s not answering any of my texts. I don’t... I don’t know what to do.”

            “Okay,” Lip said. His voice was calm, the polar opposite of Fiona’s hysterics. He looked from Fiona’s mess to frozen Ian and said, “Everything’s going to be okay. Fiona, I need you to go wake Carl, get him calling hospitals. You start calling all of Debbie’s friends. I’m going to get out there and check the Jackson’s, make sure she’s not with Frank, and then I’ll start banging on the neighbours doors. See if they saw anything. Ian, you know where she likes to hang out. Check everywhere you can think of. Everyone keep their phones on and let everyone else know if you find anything. Okay?”

            Fiona nodded.

            “Then let’s go.”

            As if those words had triggered something inside of her, Fiona dashed up the stairs, yelling Carl’s name. Lip and Ian headed for the door together. Lip hopped the fence and headed down the street as Ian unlocked the bike from the front porch’s railing. He rode down the front steps, broke through the faulty lock on the gate with little more than a push, and pedalled across the street.

            He went through the neighbour’s backyard and got out through the gap in their fence. He turned down the street, winding through houses for what felt like forever until he got to the commercial side of the neighbourhood.

            Every inch of him felt numb. It was like the first time he’d gone on his meds, when suddenly the entire world was muted and no news could get through to him. He knew his heart should be pounding. His thoughts should be racing. Every inch of him should have been alive with fear for Debbie. But he was just numb.

            Something about Lip’s calm had invaded him. It was just a search and rescue operation. Same as an ROTC training simulation. Find the invader. Check all the usual spots. Then spread out the search.

            He wondered for a second if that was how Lip had been when he’d run away. Had Lip been the voice of reason as Fiona panicked? How long had it taken for Lip to panic too? How long had it been before any of them had noticed he was gone at all? How long before they had begun to worry about him?

            Taking a deep breath, he stored those questions to ponder later as he stopped the bike outside of an empty soda shop. He stepped in, the door ringing, and saw the cashier look up with an expression of obvious disappointment.

            “I’m not here to buy anything,” Ian said quickly. “I’m wondering if you’ve seen a fourteen year-old girl, red hair, umm... I don’t know what she was wearing. She might have had a bag or a backpack or something.”

            The teenager blinked and then shook his head. “Sorry.”

            Ian nodded and backed out of the store quickly. He hopped on his bike and went down three blocks to the twenty-four hour gym that Debbie worked at. He pushed through the glass doors and an overly cheery secretary immediately greeted him.

            “Hey,” he said. “You know Debbie Gallagher?”

            She nodded. “She’s not working right now.”

            “I know. But is she here? Did she come through recently? Like, in the last...” He checked the time on his phone. “Hour or so.”

            She shook her head. “Sorry. You want me to call her?”

            Ian bit back the urge to reply that she was deaf. He shook his head and headed for the exit, pulling out his phone. He shot off three texts to Debbie in quick succession, doubting that she’d reply if Fiona had already tried flooding her phone. He jumped back on the bike and started towards the city pool.

            It was a long shot that in the middle of October she had decided to hang out at an abandoned concrete hole, but it was the last place he could think of. He stopped in front of the fence and tried the gate. It rattled, but the padlock held. He looked up and, rubbing his hands together, started to climb.

            Coming over the top, he dropped down and landed in a crouch. His feet stung from the impact but he shook it off, walking closer to the edge of the empty pool. It was little more than a black hole, shadowed from every corner by a different streetlight.

            Something rattled.

            He looked down into the darkness, but could barely see into the curved edges of the concrete. With a sigh, he headed over to the ladder and climbed down until he was hanging off the last rungs. He dropped again, this time not sticking the landing, and fell onto his back with a groan.

            “If you’re down here, I swear to god...” he mumbled to himself.

            He rolled to his feet. The concrete was hard beneath the thin soles of his shoes as he brushed the dust off of his clothing. He stepped further into the pool and decided to walk its perimeter. The rattle came again, but this time he was sure that it was above him.

            Looking up, he saw a small creature skittering around the edge of the pool. A raccoon. He cursed and finished the perimeter of the empty pool before heading back to the ladder. He rubbed his hands together and then jumped, just catching the last rung. He groaned as he pulled himself up, every muscle in his body protesting until he got his feet onto the ladder.

            He dropped back down on the other side of the fence and paused with one hand on the handlebars of the bike, breathing heavily. He had one last idea. A stupid idea, but it was worth a shot. He jumped back on and headed over to Patsy’s Pies.

            The diner was long closed, but he walked around into the back alley where the door was jimmied open so the chef could easily slip out for cigarette breaks. Ian slipped in through the door, its hinges squeaking as he did so, and flicked on the light.

            The kitchen came into full view, fluorescent lights glaring across rusting metal appliances and shelving. Ian made his way through the small maze, heading into the back where his sink was, and flicking on the light there. A much smaller bulb came to life, hanging shadows across the concrete walls.

            Ian hesitated for a moment and then knelt down onto the ground.

            A pair of brown eyes stared back at him from under the counter where he rested the clean dishes. Debbie’s legs slipped out from where she had them curled up and she shifted out to sit on the ground.

            _“How’d you find me?”_ she signed.

            _“Lucky guess.”_

            He shifted down into a sitting position, crossing his legs. Now that she was right in front of him, looking at him with an annoyed expression, all the emotions he should have felt rushed over him. His heart sped up a bit and panic flared through him.

            _“You can’t do things like that,”_ he signed. He slipped his phone out of his pocket and quickly texted Lip and Fiona that she was safe. Placing his phone back on the ground, he looked back at Debbie. Relief flooded him like a tidal wave. _“You okay?”_

            _“I’m fine. I’m not going home, but I’m fine.”_

_“You have to come home.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Because your big sister dating the guy you like isn’t exactly a reason to run away.”_

_“No, but what is? Finally going fucking crazy?”_

            Ian blinked, hurt flaring through his chest.

            _“You got to do it,”_ she said. _“You just ran off without a word and weren’t heard from for months, so why the hell do I have to come home? I don’t fucking wanna go home. Fiona’s a bitch and a traitor and I’m not living under her fucking roof anymore.”_

_“You’re fourteen.”_

_“You were seventeen. Barely.”_

            Ian huffed out a long breath, his eyes dropping to the floor. Her moving hands were sending wild shadows through the badly lit room, so he focussed on the light coming from his phone. Fiona and Lip asking if Debbie was all right, where she was, when they’d be back home. His heart felt heavier reading the panic and relief in their words. Their obvious worry over a ninety minute disappearance.

            _“That was different.”_

_“How?”_

_“I was sick.”_

            Debbie stared at him.

            _“You were the only one who made me feel like everything was okay,”_ Ian said. He licked his lips. _“Fiona may have found me. She may have dragged me out of that crack house with her own two hands. But you’re the one who saved me.”_ He paused. _“Don’t make me do this without you, Debs. I can’t.”_

            She blinked, tears glittering in her eyes. _“This isn’t about you.”_

            _“It’s about you,”_ Ian agreed. _“And Fiona and Adam and how much that hurts and it sucks. I know it sucks and you don’t wanna just let it slide off your shoulders and you don’t have to. But you do have to come home.”_

            She shook her head.

            _“You remember why I didn’t want to come home?”_

_“You didn’t want to get help.”_

            Ian nodded, his throat tightening. _“Remember what you said?”_

_“Why is a couple pills different than an interpreter?”_

            Tears dripped from Ian’s eyes. He nodded and took a deep breath. _“You’re amazing and perfect and you understand this world so much better than I do.”_ The shadows of his signs flickered across Debbie’s face. _“You’re so much stronger than I am. And I would hate to see you throw away your life, any part of it, just because one stupid guy can’t see how special you are.”_

_“But I’m going to be expected to watch them-”_

            Ian grabbed her hands and squeezed tightly. He shook his head and, letting go, said, _“She’s not gonna see him anymore.”_

            _“I’ll have to see him.”_

_“We’ll get a new interpreter as soon as possible. We might even be able to get a new one for Monday. Okay?”_

            Debbie was quiet was a long moment. The light overhead stuttered and they both looked up at it. After a second, she got to her feet and pulled her bag out from under the counter. Ian stood with her, texting Fiona and Lip that they were on their way back home.


	31. Chapter 31

Ian was shaking as he deposited Debbie into Fiona’s arms. Fiona hugged her tightly and Debbie struggled, breaking free in mere seconds and heading up the stairs. Carl headed up after her, asking tons of questions before Ian made a sign at him and Carl shut up, remembering Debbie couldn’t hear him.

            Rubbing his eyes, Ian stood still in the mudroom with his two older siblings for a long second before Lip said, “At least we found her, right?”

            Fiona let out a strained laugh. “Pretty amazing jump in our abilities there.”

            Lip smiled and Ian just stared at both of them, his heart pounding awkwardly in his chest. The smile fell from Fiona’s lips and she reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “You okay?”

            “Yeah, yeah, I just...” Ian shook his head. He didn’t know how to explain how bad it was getting a glimpse of what life must have been like for them last year. He couldn’t explain the rising, buzzing panic in him that wouldn’t go away, no matter how many times he repeated to himself that Debbie was safe. There were no words for exactly how he knew this was his fault. “I need to get out of here.”

            “It’s late.”

            Ian nodded. “I know. I’ll be back. I just... can’t.”

            Fiona nodded and then stepped forward to hug him. She wrapped her arms so tightly around him that he was afraid his bones would break. Pulling back, she kissed him on the cheek and said, “Be safe, okay?”

            He nodded again and went out the door.

            Shivering in his leather jacket, he bounded down the front steps and down the street, heading for the bus station. He ignored the intercom saying it was the last bus of the night before sitting down in one of the many empty seats. The doors shuddered to a close and the bus drove off towards Evanston.

            Ian chewed on his bottom lip the whole way, staring down at the plethora of texts on his phone. He reread every word that Fiona and Lip had sent him. He closed his eyes against the tears  and the unnatural energy buzzing through him so late at night. Every nerve fibre inside of him was tired but he was awake with worry and sadness and thoughts that wouldn’t stop.

            He got off at the bus terminal and walked the distance to Mickey and Mandy’s apartment. It was a long walk through dark, dangerous streets, but all the buses he passed were OFF. He reached the bottom of their metal staircase and looked up at the rows of metal doors above him. Licking his lips, he texted Mickey, _I’m outside._

            Then, without waiting for a reply, he rushed up the stairs until he stood in front of the metal door. He looked back down at his phone and the lonely text sitting there. _Right now_ , he added, hoping Mickey would get the hint. Hoping he was awake at all.

            His heart was pounding in his throat, his breath coming out hot and heavy in the cold autumn air. He shifted on the step, his feet scraping against the metal bars. He was tempted to text again, but didn’t. He stood there, waiting, staring at the too bright screen. Hoping.

            The metal door slid open.

            Mickey stood there in a muscle shirt and plain blue boxers, rubbing at one of his eyes. His hair stuck up a bit, stiff with sleep. He signed, _“The fuck?”_

            Ian stepped into the apartment and kissed him, his hand wrapping around the back of Mickey’s neck and pulling him closer. Mickey reacted quickly, his lips moving into the kiss as his body slid forward, all the fabric between them rubbing with heated friction.

            _“Whoa,”_ Mickey signed, stepping back. He held out a hand as if to stop Ian from stepping forward. Ian’s breath was loud in his own ears, jarring against the muted silence of the street below. _“What the hell? What’s wrong?”_

            Ian shook his head and stepped forward. Mickey stepped back.

            _“I don’t wanna talk,”_ Ian signed.

            Mickey shifted his jaw. _“What happened?”_

_“I don’t wanna talk. I don’t wanna stand here. I don’t wanna just kiss you. You win. Right now, you win.”_

            Mickey stared at him for a long moment. He was only half illuminated by the streetlight outside, its light spilling in through the half open door. He had steadied his breath after the kiss and his eyes glittered in the light. With seeming reluctance, he asked, _“You sure?”_

            Ian nodded and stepped forward again. He leaned his forehead down against Mickey’s, breathing in his dirty scent, and then slowly lowered his lips to Mickey’s. He kissed him shortly once, twice, three times before diving in, kissing him so hard his head spun.

            Mickey reached up to grab his shoulders, pulling him closer until their bodies were practically pulling through the fabric of their clothes. Ian dropped his jacket and stepped forward, causing Mickey to stumble back, pushing him towards the open door of his room.

            Mickey’s lips slipped from his, trailing kisses down his neck, finding the spot that made Ian groan. Ian pushed Mickey back onto the bed, crawled on top of him, keeping his body off of Mickey’s as he moved his lips back over Mickey’s, exploring softly and then quickly and then hard enough that he tasted blood at the back of his throat.

            He pulled off his shirt and Mickey did the same. Their skin collided, Mickey cold and Ian fire hot. Ian rutted against Mickey, slowly pushing him further up on the bed so that he could lay down on top of him, his lips slipping across Mickey’s jawbone and down his neck.

            Mickey gasped as Ian’s long fingers dipped under the waistband of his boxers, skittering across the smooth skin of his waist. He bent down the waistband, slowing his kisses, and then slipped the boxers off of Mickey. Mickey’s hands spread across Ian’s abs, mercilessly cold, and then undid the button of his jeans, shoving them down.

            Ian kicked them off before closing all space between them. The cotton of his boxers rubbed against the insides of Mickey’s thighs. Mickey bent his knees, trapping Ian between his legs, and arched up to kiss him harder, their chests sliding together.

            Tangling his hands in Mickey’s hair, Ian took deep breaths between his kisses. His breath was steam against Mickey’s neck, causing him to gasp as Ian rocked his hips against his.

            Mickey pulled at Ian’s boxers but Ian moved so that they kept catching. Mickey’s hands reached underneath them, cupping Ian’s butt cheeks and pulling him even closer. Ian gasped against Mickey’s mouth, causing him to smile and their teeth to knock together in the middle of a kiss. Ian finally let Mickey pull his boxers down.

            Then, in the darkness, Ian pulled back far enough to look in Mickey’s eyes. They glittered in the night, light illuminating them from between the crack in the curtains. Ian moved one of his hands down Mickey’s side, painstakingly slowly, and then rubbed his knuckles against Mickey’s ass. Mickey exhaled heavily, catching his breath as he looked up into Ian’s eyes.

            Ian stroked Mickey’s hair, asking the question with his eyes. Mickey nodded.

            “Lube?” Ian asked.

            Mickey blinked at him, confused for a moment before gesturing towards the side table. Ian sat back on his heels, smiling at Mickey’s moan as their bodies moved away from each other, and slid open the drawer.

            He stared for a second at the collection of different condom boxes, side by side with different kinds of lube. Looking back at Mickey, he signed, _“You have a preference?”_

_“Yeah. You hurrying the fuck up.”_

            Ian smiled and took out an XL condom. He rolled it on, going slow on purpose just to see how much Mickey’s glare could actually intensify. Then he grabbed the first jar of lube he touched and unscrewed the lid, wincing slightly at the artificial strawberry scent that filled the room.

            Dipping in his fingers, Ian covered the condom first, enjoying the look on Mickey’s face as he stroked his own cock. Then he scooped more lube and reached his hand under Mickey, inserting his fingers into his ass. Mickey gasped at the cold and wriggled as Ian fucked him with his fingers none-too-gently.

            Ian pulled out his fingers and smiled before screwing the lid back on the lube and throwing the jar off the bed. He smiled at Mickey and leaned down, closing the space between them with a kiss.

            Ian rocked Mickey up and guided his cock into Mickey’s ass. Mickey gasped, his face screwing up slightly as Ian pulled away from the kiss. He pulled up, thrusting forward slowly and then coming back out halfway before going back in. Mickey wriggled underneath him, heaving out heavy breaths as Ian rocked slowly.

            “Harder,” Mickey grunted.

            Ian took a deep breath. Each time he rocked forward, he could feel Mickey’s butt cheeks tense around him. Mickey’s hard cock hit his chest with every thrust. Ian wrapped one of his hands around it, sliding slowly as he sped up his thrusts. Mickey groaned, the sound loud enough to echo back through the small space.

            Ian stopped moving his hand but kept it against Mickey’s dick. He thrust harder, rocking Mickey back and forth. Mickey wrapped his hands around Ian, grabbing his ass and pulling him in harder. Ian went faster and then dipped down to kiss Mickey.

            Mickey kissed him back, hard, his tongue swirling in ways that made Ian understand exactly how to tie a cherry stem into a knot. He thrust hard into Mickey’s ass and Mickey gasped against his mouth and Ian swallowed his breath as he came. He felt Mickey do the same against his chest.

            And then, gasping for air, he pulled out, the long kiss dissolving into smaller ones. Ian rolled off Mickey, their lips still touching, giving him small kisses until he felt his lips going numb with sleep. He trailed kisses down the side of Mickey’s neck and across his shoulder, until Mickey’s small sounds of pleasure turned into shallow, soundless, sleepy breaths.

            Ian lay there staring at Mickey’s face. The shadowed light played across the curves of Mickey’s nose and the one hair that fluttered every time Ian took a breath. His legs were still intertwined with Mickey’s, his skin cooling down wherever Mickey had touched.

            He rolled onto his back, pulling his legs away from Mickey’s and stared at the ceiling. Everything inside of him quieted and, for a second, without the traffic downstairs, he knew exactly what it was like to be in Mickey’s world. Exactly what a world without sound was like.

            Licking his bottom lip, he looked back at Mickey one more time. His stomach rolled as he watched the slow rise and fall of his chest. Then he got to his feet, pulled on his clothes, and snuck out the front door. He stood shivering at the bus stop until the buses started running again.


	32. Chapter 32

Ian entered the house through the backdoor early the next morning. The sky was still dark but the kitchen light was on. Fiona was standing at the counter, mixing a bowl of Bisquick and water. She looked up at him with concern and said, “You were out late.”

            “Yeah.”

            She hesitated. “You okay?”

            Ian blinked and looked up at her as he leaned back against the door to close it. He considered the question. He still felt quiet inside, as if Mickey had turned everything off. He nodded. “Just tired.”

            “Where’d you go?”

            He didn’t reply.

            “I’m making pancakes.”

            “Little early for a Saturday, isn’t it?”

            She shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”

            Ian let the silence fall between them for a second before he asked the question on his mind. “You knew I was coming back, right? You didn’t think that-”

            “You needed some time. I get that.”

            “No.” He shook his head. “I mean, last year. When I ran away. You knew I was coming back, right? You didn’t think I was dead or in a different country or—”

            “Ian...” she said, so softly it hurt. She dropped the whisk, sending the plastic bowl tumbling onto its side, and rushed over to him. Wrapping her arms around him, she whispered, “I knew you were coming back, okay? I knew.”

            He sobbed against her shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t...”

            “Hey, I know,” she said. She pulled back, brushing the hair out of his eyes. “I know. It’s okay.”

            “It’s not okay.”

            “You were sick,” she said. “It’s okay.”

            Licking his lips, he nodded and she pulled back.

            “I’m gonna take a shower,” he said and then turned for the stairs. He walked up them slowly, most of his body already asleep. The tears dried against his cheeks, leaving him feeling sticky and weak.

            He turned the water on as hot as it would go and the old showerhead sputtered, but relented. He stepped under the water, letting it burn his skin and bring him back to the noise of the world. He stood with his face to the water, not washing anything, just standing under the showerhead until the hot water gave out on him and started running cold.

            Turning off the shower, he got out, dried off, and crept into his room. Carl was fast asleep on the top bunk and Liam was sleeping fitfully in his bed. Ian pulled on sweatpants and an old t-shirt before turning around to watch both of them for a second.

            Then he walked out of the room and down the hall to Debbie’s room. He opened the door as quietly as possible and slipped in to stare at her. She was fast asleep, curled up against the wall, a teddy bear in her arms. He wondered if she had remembered to take the bear when she ran or if she would have stumbled back to the front door late at night because she couldn’t sleep without it.

            He sat down at the end of her bed and brushed her red hair out of her face. She wrinkled her nose, feeling the tickle, but didn’t stir. Ian took back his hand and then stayed there for a long moment, not moving until he heard the door creak behind him.

            Lip stood in between the door and its frame. “Checking that she’s still here?” he whispered.

            Ian nodded.

            “I’ve been doing it all night.”

            “Breakfast ready yet?”

            Lip shrugged and opened the door further. Ian followed him out into the hall, shutting the door behind him, and the two of them headed down to the kitchen. Lip clapped him on the shoulder and asked, “You all right?”

            He nodded. “Just a long night.”

            “Where’d you go?”

            “Mickey’s.”

            Lip was silent for a moment. “He any good at dealing with this crap?”

            Ian shrugged, not about to get into it, and stifled a yawn. Lip walked ahead of him, going for the coffee in the coffee maker as Fiona flipped two burnt pancakes onto a plate. Ian took them both, biting into them without any syrup. He finished quickly and then got up.

            “Where you going?” Fiona asked.

            “To sleep,” Ian replied and then he stumbled up the stairs to fall face first into his bed.


	33. Chapter 33

Tapping Debbie on the shoulder, Ian waited for her to look up before signing, _“We need to go.”_

            She gave him a look. _“Don’t you have class?”_

_“Yes,”_ he replied as he started walking away. _“Which is why we need to go to the high school early and speak with your new interpreter and make sure everything is all right right now.”_

            Her eyes lit up and she smiled around a mouthful of cereal _. “You have a new interpreter already?”_

            He smiled. _“I told you by Monday, didn’t I?”_

            She nodded and, after shoving three more spoonfuls of cereal into her mouth, leaped out of her chair. Ian handed her her backpack and then slid his own over his shoulders before opening the kitchen door. She ducked under his arm to get outside and he followed after her into the frigid October air.

            _“How are you doing?”_ Ian asked once they were nearly a block away. She shrugged, so he pushed, _“I know things are hard with Fiona and it’s not... easy coming home after something like that. So I just wanna know how you’re doing.”_

            Debbie looked down at the sidewalk and kicked a pebble several feet. She was walking slightly away from Ian and just a little bit ahead, embarrassed to have her big brother walk her into school. Then, with a shrug, she signed, _“I’m fine. It was stupid and I shouldn’t’ve done it and I’m sorry.”_

_“You sure?”_

_“Yes. Can we stop talking about it now?”_

            Ian stared at her for a long moment and then shook his head. _“I feel like it’s my fault you did it at all.”_

_“It’s Fiona’s fault.”_

_“But would you really have run away if I hadn’t done it?”_

            She bit her bottom lip.

            _“Debs, can I tell you something I haven’t told anyone else?”_

            She nodded.

            Ian swallowed and looked away for a second. His heart rate had sped up again, as if just thinking of the panic his family must have gone through made him experience that panic himself. Taking a deep breath, he looked back at Debbie and signed, _“I was terrified. Sure, at first I was manic and excited and so happy with myself for figuring out a way not to go back to school at the end of the summer... but as soon as the depression set in I was scared out my fucking mind. But I couldn’t get out of bed. I could barely think straight I was so high. And all I remember thinking, in that whole time, was how much I wanted Fiona.”_

_“Fiona had to drag you back, remember?”_

            Ian nodded _. “I couldn’t move.”_

            Debbie hesitated over her next words, her lips pressed tightly together. _“All I remember thinking, that whole time, was how much I wanted you.”_

_“I felt the same way when you were gone.”_

_“I was gone an hour.”_

_“Doesn’t matter.”_

            She sighed. _“I’m sorry.”_

_“Me too.”_

            Then Ian let the conversation fall as Debbie skipped ahead a bit, looking back at him as she did so he would know she was okay. He smiled at her and watched the back heels of her used-to-be-white sneakers as they turned towards the school.

            He went up the steps of the school with her, feeling a little better being there with a purpose. They turned towards the main office and Ian spoke for a moment with the receptionist, who told them to sit down. Ian tapped his foot against the linoleum floor, his knee shaking up and down.

            _“Ian,”_ Debbie signed to get his attention. _“You don’t have to stay if you’re gonna be late. I can do this.”_

_“No. I didn’t come last time and I should’ve and that’s why we’re in this situation in the first place,”_ he replied. He glanced at the clock. He still had half an hour before he absolutely had to leave so he forced his knee to still and gave Debbie a reassuring smile. _“I’m gonna make sure the new interpreter is butt ugly, incredibly old, and possibly a woman.”_

_“Fiona’s bi.”_

_“But you’re not.”_ Ian paused _. “Are you?”_

            She clicked her tongue. _“Straight.”_

            Ian reached over and tried to give her a noogie, but she shifted to the side quickly, moving over a chair so there was a large space between them. She flattened down her hair with her hands, shot him a nasty look, and then dug into her bag for a mirror. Ian tried hard not to laugh as he looked down at his phone.

            Fiona had texted asking how things were going. Lip had texted to make sure Debbie was okay. But there was nothing else.

            He answered both texts quickly and then shoved his phone into his pocket, trying not to let his growing sense of disappointment take over. He watched the clock as the minutes ticked by and then, with only seven minutes to spare, they were called into the principal’s office.

            Ian signed to Debbie and she got up to follow him, satisfied she looked good enough to go to class. They entered the small office space to be greeted by three other people. The principal, Adam, and Sheila Jackson, who waved happily.

            He moved Debbie over to the side furthest from Adam and she refused to look at him. The principal began to speak and Ian quickly began to interpret for Debbie, hoping the other two would get the hint. Both started, of course, but stopped as soon as they saw that Debbie was focussed only on her brother.

            “I’ve come to understand that there was some sort of personal conflict with Mr. Bruner continuing to interpret for Miss Gallagher,” the principal said. He cleared his throat. “Now, I do not wish to know the nature of this conflict, but Mr. Bruner has been informed that his services are no longer required and has suggested that one of his ASL students, Mrs. Jackson, take his place, if this is acceptable to all parties involved.”

            The principal looked towards Ian and Debbie. Ian raised an eyebrow in question and Debbie glanced back at Sheila, who smiled brightly. _“Does she even know ASL?”_

            _“Ask her.”_

            Debbie turned and signed the same question to Sheila, who quickly replied. She had an odd accent to her signs, as if her fingers weren’t quite used to uncurling all the way, but Ian understood her perfectly fine. She was much better than Lip and possibly better than Fiona.

            _“You know the curriculum?”_ Ian asked.

            Sheila nodded and signed back, _“Karen was just studying for her GED.”_

            Ian looked back at Debbie, who glanced at him and shrugged. Turning towards the principal, Ian said, “It should be great. Thank you for being so understanding.” He stood and offered his hand to the man who had been his principal only last year. He shook his hand all the same and then shuffled around his desk to open the door for everyone.

            Sheila and Debbie went first. Sheila had started talking about baking and Debbie was already rolling her eyes. Ian had to smile. Having Sheila as Debbie’s interpreter was the equivalent of Debbie’s mom following her everywhere she went.

            He had started out of the office when Adam called, “Hey, wait a minute!”

            Ian glanced back.

            “Can I talk to you?”

            “I don’t have time,” Ian replied and then he walked out of the building. He boarded a bus quickly and slipped into Psychology class an hour later, only ten minutes late.

            Mandy shot him a look. “You okay?”

            “Great.”

            She didn’t look like she believed him, but went back to doodling in her notebook all the same.


	34. Chapter 34

Dr. Dhawan stopped the class halfway through and Ian dropped his hands, looking back to his minimal notes as he did so. He stared at them for a long moment before giving in to the feel of Mickey’s eyes on the side of his head and looking up with an eyebrow raised.

            _“The fuck’s up with you?”_ Mickey signed.

            _“Whaddya mean?”_

_“It’s been four days.”_

_“And?”_

_“Well, my sister tells me you’re not dead and yet you ran out my house at three in the goddamn morning after busting in like a fucking tank, so maybe I’m the least bit concerned when I don’t hear from you for four fucking days.”_

            Ian blinked and then stared at Mickey for a long moment. He leaned onto the back legs of his chair and said, _“So, let me get this straight. You don’t wanna date me or hold hands or anything, but you’re upset that I didn’t call you?”_

_“Fuck off.”_

            Shrugging, Ian looked back to his notes and dropped his chair back to the ground. A spark of pride shot through him knowing that Mickey might’ve been waiting by the phone for his call. But he only looked back up again when Mickey let out a deep, exasperated, and overplayed sigh. Ian raised his eyebrows at him.

            _“You seemed really messed up that night,”_ Mickey signed. _“So when you were gone in the morning and I didn’t hear from you, forgive me for being the least bit worried.”_

_“Worried?”_

            Mickey rolled his eyes.

            Ian tried his best to hide his smile and the warmth that flooded through his stomach at that one word. He had been annoyed when Mickey hadn’t called _him_ but at the same time had been a little bit relieved. He had been pretty messed up. He said, _“It was a one night stand, Mick. Get the fuck over it.”_

_“You said I win. And my side wasn’t no fucking one night stand.”_

            Smirking, Ian asked, _“What was your side?”_

_“You.”_

_“Me? Just me? I’m right here so-”_

_“Fuck off.”_

            Ian’s smirk only widened.

            Mickey was still for a moment, looking at Ian with eyes that still seemed worried despite the fact that Ian was right there. Then he said, _“We’re friends, right?”_

            Ian shrugged.

            _“You wanna tell me what happened?”_

_“You know what happened.”_

_“Before.”_

            Ian looked at him and said, _“So, once again, you don’t want to be my boyfriend, but you want to talk to me about my life and what’s going on and worry about me and want me to stay and cuddle all night long?”_

            Sighing dramatically, Mickey looked back to his notes in defeat. And Ian felt a slight pang at having teased Mickey so badly about it when the guy was just trying to help. Ian hit him lightly against the arm and, when he looked up, signed, _“It’s a long story.”_

_“I got time.”_

_“Yeah, but I have better things to do with your time.”_

            Mickey smirked _. “You free after this?”_

            Ian nodded and then looked back to the front of the class as Dr. Dhawan called them back to their seats. He started signing for Mickey, letting Mickey rely on him and not his lip-reading for the second half of class.

            He glanced at the clock. Forty-five more minutes. Forty-five minutes and he was already buzzing with anticipation.


	35. Chapter 35

Ian hung out in the coffee shop while Mandy was on shift after Psych the next day. He was struggling through his math problems, marking problems he couldn’t get with a star to show Mickey later. He smiled a bit every time he wrote a star, knowing that every one was a moment that Mickey would be sitting beside him, pressed close, scribbling on the paper with utter confidence.

            He was sipping coffee, despite his meds, because he had barely gotten any sleep the night before. Fiona had given him an odd look when he’d come home early in the morning, but said nothing and Ian suspected she’d been asking Lip all her questions about him.

            Just as he took a sip of his blackened coffee, Mandy slumped down on the seat across from him, shoving his legs off of the chair and onto the floor. She leaned forward on her elbow and said, “We need to talk.”

            Ian looked up. “Are you breaking up with me?”

            She nodded solemnly. “It’s time. I just...” She sighed deeply, softer than Mickey would’ve, but unmistakably similar. “I think you might be gay.”

            Smiling, he replied, “What ever could make you think that?”

            “Mostly the sounds coming out of my brother’s bedroom last night.”

            Ian’s smile fell from his face as he felt a blush rise to his cheeks. He cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

            “No need,” she said. “Well, actually, yes. I’d like some warning next time. Like a sock on the door. Or a sock outside the apartment door. Or, better yet, throw a whole pile of socks on the sidewalk in front of the building, because I think as long as I don’t pass that, I won’t be able to hear you.”

            “He doesn’t know how loud he is.”

            “Yeah, well, what’s your excuse?”

            Ian couldn’t help but laugh and he looked down at the page, scribbling out the rest of the answer before looking back at Mandy. She had one eyebrow raised over her blue eyes, as if still waiting for the answer to the question. Then, with a sigh, she leaned back in the chair and grabbed Ian’s coffee. She winced at the taste.

            “You take it black?”

            He shrugged.

            “Whatever,” she said, setting the cup back down and slinging it across the table. Ian caught it just before it tipped over. “If you’re going to sleep at my house, I might as well sleep at yours.”

            Ian met her eyes and said, “First of all, I haven’t technically slept at your house. Secondly, if you’re talking about having sex with my brother, don’t.”

            “Since you’re fucking my brother, I find that a tad hypocritical.”

            Licking his lips, Ian hesitated as he looked for the words to convince her. He took another sip of coffee, letting it burn down his throat, and then placed the empty cup down in the middle of the table. She stared at him, waiting impatiently for whatever he was going to say. And in that moment, Ian knew exactly what Mickey had meant when he said he didn’t _let_ Mandy do anything.

            “Your brother has been clear from the start that his only intention is to sleep with me,” Ian began and Mandy wrinkled her nose. “Lip, on the other hand, wants you to think he’s the perfect gentleman. That he’ll take you out on dates and wine and dine you and that he isn’t only looking for sex. But he is.”

            Mandy shrugged. “So? We both get to have sex, which is a plus. And he buys me stuff. Also a plus.”

            “He’s going to hurt you.”

            “Yeah, and Mickey won’t hurt you?” Mandy bit back. “You’ve been pulling away from him because you want more. Because somehow you’re stupid enough to fall in love with someone you barely know in the space of a couple weeks. And you think just because he wants you to stay in bed and he wants to talk, maybe it’s more. But you’re right. He’s been perfectly clear. It’s just sex.

            “So you’re the one who’s going to get hurt here, Ian. I know how to take care of myself, how to look out for myself. You tell me your brother’s an asshole and I’ll believe you. I’m not in love with him. I’m not gonna let myself fall in love with him. And I’m not going to be the one who gets my heart broken here. You are.”

            She stood up, kicking back her chair. Ian stood with her and grabbed her arm to stop her, loosening his grip as soon as she flinched and then pulling back altogether. He licked his lips. “I’m not in love with Mickey. I knew exactly what I was getting into.”

            “And what? Because I’m a girl I can’t understand the friends with benefits thing the same way?”

            “Because Lip’s actually pretending care about you.”

            “Fuck you. You were messed up and you made a fucking stupid decision and you’re too scared to admit it to yourself. You need more than just sex, Ian. But Mick doesn’t.” She shook her head sadly. “And I wish... I wish that you had called me and we had talked. Or at least you would have discussed the situation with me first, before jumping into bed with him. Because I have done everything you asked. I listened to you about Lip. I let you chaperone our date. I’m listening to you now. But every single time I bring up Mickey, you shut me down. Don’t you think this goes both ways?”

            “Mandy-”

            “No. You don’t want Lip to hurt me, because you’re afraid that if he does, I won’t wanna be your friend anymore.” She paused and licked her lips. “Thing is, I know in my gut as well as you know in yours, that Mick’s gonna hurt you.”

            “It’s just sex.”

            She exhaled heavily. “Fine, whatever, get hurt. See if I care.”

            She turned to go again, but Ian said, “Hey,” and she looked back. He stepped forward and gave her an awkward hug before pulling back quickly. “Thanks for lookin’ out for me.”

            “Same.” She nodded, sniffed, and then stepped back. “And, you know, if you ever actually wanna talk about whatever happened Friday night, you can call.”

            “Thanks.”

            Mandy nodded again and then walked behind the counter, getting right back to her job with only a slight shake in her hands. Ian sat back down, looking back at the stars on his math homework, and he tried not to let the butterflies come back again. The warmth spreading in his chest felt like an infection now, instead of a blessing.

            _Just sex,_ he repeated to himself. _That’s it._


	36. Chapter 36

Ian sighed as he rolled away from Mickey, the covers sticking to his sweaty skin. Their hot breath mingled in the miniscule space between them. Ian stared at the tops of Mickey’s black eyelashes, watching as they flickered soundlessly before his blue eyes opened to the late afternoon light.

            Ian’s stomach curled around the thought that Mickey was beautiful in this light. Sleepy and exhausted and sweaty and smiling like Ian was the rising sun. His blue eyes twinkling with the kind of lust that gets people in a lot of trouble.

            Moving forward, Ian kissed him gently, pulling back before Mickey could escalate it. He rolled over and pulled the condom off, throwing it into the trash beside the bed. He paused for only a second, listening to the plonking echo of latex hitting metal, and then rolled into a sitting position. He tried to push the covers off, but Mickey grabbed their edges, keeping them over Ian’s legs.

            Glancing down at him, Ian signed, _“I should go.”_

            “Stay,” Mickey grumbled, his hands still tangled in the covers.

            Ian couldn’t help the smile on his lips as he reached over to brush the greasy black hair from Mickey’s face. He shifted slightly to get closer to the edge of the bed and then forced himself to look away from Mickey.

            It was cold outside the covers. His sweat made the late October draft seem like icicles against his skin and he was desperate to sink back into the bed and use Mickey as a heater. He glanced at his phone on the bedside table, but there were no texts that he could use to distract himself.

            His eyes flickered to the cracked open drawer and then to the lube jar he had thrown on the ground. He picked it up, opened the drawer further, and started pulling out everything in it. As he set it down before his crossed legs, he looked over at Mickey, who signed, _“The fuck are you doing?”_

            Ian shrugged. _“I keep grabbing blindly. I wanna know what’s in here.”_

            Mickey sighed and sat up, twirling the covers with him until he sat facing Ian, his back to the collection of lube that was quickly piling onto the bedspread. Then Ian started pulling out boxes of condoms, creating a rainbow of colours.

            When the drawer was finally empty, most of the bed was covered with supplies. He looked over at Mickey. _“This. This is a problem. I don’t know what kind of problem. Hoarding, sex addiction, maybe something that should be on that show about people who eat weird things-”_

_“Fuck off.”_

            Ian smiled and started looking through the condoms. XL. XXL. Ribbed for her pleasure. Ribbed for his pleasure. Shared pleasure. Fire & Ice. Naked sensations. And tropical flavours. Ian picked that box up and held it out to Mickey with a look. Mickey scowled.

            _“What? They taste good.”_

_“What’s your favourite?”_ Ian signed, dropping the box to his lap. He started picking through them, reading the flavours off the different coloured labels before looking back at Mickey.

            _“Grape.”_

            He bit down on his smile but Mickey grabbed the box from him all the same and threw it to the other side of the room. Ian looked back down at the pile in front of him and started to categorize the lube. Strawberry, which was always the one he grabbed. No flavour. Banana. Passion fruit. Vanilla. Cinnamon. Chocolate. Bubble Gum. Blue Raspberry. Pina Colada.

            Ian scratched his head. _“Definitely a problem,”_ he signed.

            _“Fuck off.”_

            _“Can you just like... eat this?”_ Ian asked, twisting the lid off of the chocolate one. He sniffed it and winced. The artificial chocolate smell was strong and he screwed the lid back on immediately.

            Mickey grabbed for the can, but Ian held it out of the way. He grabbed the arm Mickey stretched out and pulled him closer. Mickey fought against it and Ian twisted his arm. He struggled over the covers and managed to turn Mickey around. Knocking him back against the headboard, Ian brought his face close to Mickey’s and kissed him deeply.

            Mickey refused to kiss him back.

            Pulling back, Ian signed, “ _You know, to use every combination, we’d probably have to have sex like a hundred times.”_

_“Eighty.”_

            Ian raised an eyebrow. _“You know that by heart?”_

_“No. I’m better at math than you are.”_

            Laughing, Ian licked his bottom lip and glanced back at the collection behind him. _“Well, we better get started then.”_

            Mickey smirked. _“I’m not sure the XXL will fit.”_

_“Actually, the XL’s a little tight.”_

            He winked and Mickey laughed, leaning forward to kiss him with the smile still on his lips. Ian kissed back playfully, wrapping one of his legs between Mickey’s hips and the headboard. He leaned their noses together, keeping his lips just out of reach, and looked down into Mickey’s eyes.

            And he had to admit that maybe Mandy was right.

            Mickey pushed Ian back slightly in order to sign, _“You gonna start, Gallagher, or do I have to find someone else to do all eighty with?”_

            Ian didn’t answer. He just leaned forward and kissed him.


	37. Chapter 37

Ian walked out of math rubbing the back of his neck but he didn’t have to wait long before other hands slipped over his shoulders, kneading gently against the knots in his back. Mickey’s hands squished down the length of his spine and then goosed him hard.

            Jumping forward, Ian turned to give him a look and Mickey shot him an unapologetic shrug before matching Ian’s pace. _“Come over tonight?”_ Mickey signed.

            Ian stared at Mickey for a long moment, watching the spark in his blue eyes, and then shook his head. _“I can’t.”_

_“You can’t?”_

_“I can’t,”_ Ian repeated. _“I have... stuff.”_

            Mickey gave him a weird look. _“Stuff.”_

            Ian shrugged and looked away. He was already cutting it close to get to his psychiatrist appointment having slowed to a walk to talk to Mickey instead of dashing straight for the bus terminal. But he couldn’t bring himself to speed up or walk away or even politely excuse himself. His feet matched pace perfectly with Mickey’s, even though Mickey took two steps for every one of his.

            _“You going back to playing hard to get?”_ Mickey said once Ian looked up again.

            He smirked. _“No.”_

_“Then what?”_

_“Babysitting,”_ Ian replied, using the first excuse that came to mind.

            _“Babysitting?”_

_“My siblings.”_

            Mickey rubbed a hand across his jaw, shrugged, and said, _“I’ll come.”_

_“You can’t come.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“You really wanna sit in the living room with a bunch of kids and try to make sure they don’t burn the house down? It’s not fun and we can’t have sex while doing it.”_

_“What kind of babysitters did you have as a kid?”_

_“My sister.”_

_“The paranoid one?”_

            Ian nodded and looked away as they headed down the stairs at the front of the building. He stopped, knowing that he needed to turn right and Mickey needed to turn left. _“I’ll see you later. Monday, maybe.”_

_“Monday?”_ Mickey replied, incredulous. “ _Three days?”_

_“What? You can’t wait that long?”_

            Mickey licked his lips and settled into a challenging smirk. “ _I don’t think you can last that long, Gallagher.”_

_“Then you’re just gonna have to text me,”_ Ian replied. And, before Mickey could protest any further, he closed the space between them and kissed him lightly on the lips. Mickey grabbed the back of his neck and pressed his tongue into Ian’s mouth. With a sigh, Ian sunk into the kiss for just a second before pulling back. Mickey went up on his tiptoes to keep their lips together for as long as possible. _“Monday,”_ Ian repeated, stepping back.

            Blue eyes stared back at him. _“You got a date tonight or something?”_

            Ian rolled his eyes and, shaking his head, turned around to head to the bus loop. His stomach fluttered a little at the thought that Mickey might be jealous, but he crushed it hard. _Just sex._ He had taken to repeating it like a mantra every time Mickey’s eyes lingered on him just a little too long, sending him into hot flashes of affection that made Mandy’s words echo through his mind.

            He hated to admit it, but she was right. He fell in love way too easily. Which was why he had resolved never, ever to let himself fall in love with Mickey Milkovich.

***

            Rushing through the backdoor, Ian dropped his bag with a crash and undid the scarf from around his neck. He went to the fridge immediately and grabbed an apple, biting into it with a juicy squish. He turned as Debbie skipped down the stairs.

            She glanced towards him. _“You’re gonna be late.”_

            Ian checked the clock and swore. _“I’ll go soon.”_

_“Fiona pays a lot of money for those sessions.”_

_“And I’m going,”_ Ian replied. He walked around the kitchen counter and handed her the apple with a bite out of it. He wrapped his scarf back around his neck before pausing to look at Debbie. _“How’s Sheila doing?”_ he asked.

            Debbie let out a groan, flopped down into a chair, and took a bite out of the opposite side of the apple _. “She’s ruining my fucking life.”_

            Ian tried to swallow his smile. _“But she’s signing okay? Doesn’t miss any words? Knows what’s going on?”_

            She smiled at him sarcastically. _“My education is fine, thanks. It’s my social life she’s destroying.”_

_“You’re fourteen. You don’t have a social life.”_

_“And I never will at this rate.”_

            He smiled. _“Plenty of time for boyfriends and sex and god knows what else you’ll do to be a worse teenager for Fiona than me and Lip. Let Sheila ruin your life. At least she won’t fuck Fiona.”_

            Debbie rolled her eyes.

            Ian had the door open behind him and was backing out, but he couldn’t help asking one last question _. “You and Fiona okay?”_

_“Define okay.”_

            He paused, the door swinging in the cold breeze. _“You’re listening to her again? You two are talking?”_

_“Define talking.”_

_“She talks, you give her one word answers.”_

_“Yeah, we’re talking.”_

            A smile spread across Ian’s face. It was quickly wiped off when Debbie reminded him, _“Doctor.”_

            And then he was out the door.


	38. Chapter 38

Ian was still half asleep by the time he made his way downstairs late the next morning. He popped his pills as he read a note from Fiona, claiming there were pancakes for him in the fridge and she had to go into work early. He turned to the fridge and pulled out the plate. Ripping away the plastic wrap, he picked up a cold pancake and bit into it.

            The texture and warmth left a lot to be desired, so still eating the first one, he stuffed the rest in the microwave and then leaned against the counter, watching the tiny green numbers count down.

            Liam skittered into the room, dragging a ragged stuffed bunny behind him. Ian gave him a look. “Hey, buddy,” he said slowly. “Where’d you get that?”

            “Mandy gave it to me.”

            Ian blinked, uncomprehending for a moment, and then asked, “Mandy?”

            Liam nodded very slowly, as if it was Ian that was five years old. Then he flung the hand with the bunny towards the opening to the living room and said, “She’s in there with Lip but they’re not to be disturbed.” He paused dramatically. “They’re planning a surprise party!”

            “A surprise party,” Ian repeated drily and once again, Liam nodded condescendingly. The microwave beeped but Ian didn’t move to open it. “A surprise for who?”

            The little boy placed a finger against his lips and stage whispered, “It’s a secret.”

            “It’s not a secret,” Carl said, coming down the stairs with a pack of three other boys following behind him. He opened the microwave and stole one of Ian’s pancakes. Then, with a mouth full of food, he managed, “They’re having sex.”

            “In the living room?” Ian asked.

            Carl nodded and then gestured towards the archway. “Go see.”

            All his friends leaned backwards, looking into the living room. Ian pushed away from the counter and corralled all of them towards the backdoor, saying, “That’s enough, you little pervs. Go break things in someone else’s house.”

            Carl stopped at the door. “Fiona said not to leave without a scarf.”

            Ian grabbed one from the coat rack and swung it around his little brother’s neck before pushing him out the door. Then he turned back to Liam, who was also staring through the archway.

            Keeping his eyes down, he picked Liam up off the floor, and carried him up the stairs. “Airplane! Airplane!” Liam exclaimed and Ian shifted his grip to let the little boy soar through the air. He made airplane noises with his lips and then swooped him down onto the floor outside their bedroom.

            Kneeling before him, he said, “Think you can stay up here and play with your blocks?”

            Liam nodded.

            “You know where Debbie is?”

            _“Still sleeping,”_ Liam signed.

            Ian smiled and kissed him on the forehead before turning him towards the bedroom door. With a sigh, he headed down the hall and had to step back as Debbie came out of her room. Her hair was a mess and she wore big, red plaid flannel pajamas. She looked up at Ian and signed, _“What?”_

_“Don’t go in the living room.”_

_“Lip having sex?”_

            Ian nodded and Debbie sighed, brushing past him to head to the stairs going down to the kitchen. He walked forward and went to the top of the stairs heading down to the living room. And, after taking a moment to collect himself, poked his head around the corner. He immediately pulled back and closed his eyes, hoping to wipe the image from his mind immediately.

            Then he went back into his bedroom to play blocks with Liam, listening for the sound of the front door opening. When it came, he got to his feet and walked down the stairs into the living room, wincing at the sound of Lip and Mandy kissing goodbye at the front door.

            He cleared his throat and both of them looked at him. “Hey, Mandy,” Ian said, deadpan. “Whatcha doing here?”

            Her smile vanished. “I spent the night.”

            “How are you getting home?”

            “Bus.”

            Ian looked towards Lip. “You gonna walk her?”

            “It’s, like, six degrees, Ian.”

            “It’s fine,” Mandy insisted. She looked between the two of them, giving Lip heart eyes and glaring daggers at Ian. She kissed Lip again and then backed out the door.

            “The fuck is your problem?” Lip asked, turning around.

            “I told you I didn’t want you dating her.”

            “Again. None of your fucking business.”

            Ian licked his lips. “Can you at least not have sex in the living room while all the kids are here?”

            “Come on. There’s not a person in this house who hasn’t seen porn.”

            “Live action version’s a little different.”

            “I told them all to stay out.”

            “You have a bedroom.”

            Lip shook his head, at a loss for words. “You need to get your head screwed on straight, Ian. Just because I’m in a relationship for once and you’re the one fucking for fun doesn’t give you the right to judge me. In fact, I think it’s the exact opposite.”

            “She told you that?”

            “She tells me lots of things.”

            “And do you care about any of them?”

            “Fuck off.”

            Lip brushed past him, knocking their shoulders together. Ian winced and turned to watch his brother go up the stairs. He wished he could feel bad enough to apologize, but he was still waiting for the day that he came downstairs and the girl in the living room wasn’t Mandy, but Karen. And Mandy still thought there was only her.

            Banking that worry for another day, he headed back into the kitchen to eat his lukewarm pancakes.


	39. Chapter 39

“Okay,” Ian sighed. He pulled off the condom and dumped it in the trash before looking back into the half open drawer. He signed, _“That was his pleasure and blue raspberry, right?”_

            Mickey gave him a look, his blue eyes only half open. He propped himself up on one elbow and replied, _“You were serious about that?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Eighty times. You have any idea how fucking long that’s gonna take?”_

            Ian shrugged _. “Like twenty days?”_

            Mickey snorted. _“Maybe if you’re around for like twenty days.”_

            Ian looked at Mickey for a long moment, trying to decipher that comment. Then, licking his lips to spread a teasing smile, he asked, _“What? You miss me or something?”_

            Blue eyes opening tiredly, he replied, _“I missed nine inches of you.”_

            Smiling, Ian leaned down and kissed him, cupping the back of his head to get better leverage at the awkward angle. When he pulled back, Mickey signed, _“You might actually be able to knot a cherry stem now.”_

_“You think?”_

_“You’re a much better kisser than you used to be.”_

_“You’re saying I was a crappy kisser?”_

_“Terrible.”_

            Ian dropped his jaw in false shock and then kissed Mickey again, harder. He felt Mickey smile under his lips and dragged his tongue across his bottom lip. Then he bit down, his teeth grazing the inside of Mickey’s lip, before moving back in to slide their tongues together.

            He fell back into the bed, Mickey’s elbow dropping, and the two of them lay facing each other, kissing slowly. Ian backed away after a few minutes, the edges of the covers tickling the skin at his hips, and signed, _“But better now?”_

_“Much better.”_

            Ian’s phone buzzed just as Mickey went in for another kiss. He pecked him lightly before rolling over and picking the phone up off the side table. He dropped it on the covers and signed, _“Mandy wants to know if we’re done.”_

            Mickey laughed and Ian relished the sound. It cut off too quickly for him to memorize it, but he got the feeling it didn’t happen often. Or at all. Mickey grabbed the phone off the covers, typed two letters, and then tossed the phone back towards the side table. He missed and the phone tumbled into the crack between the bed and the table.

            Mickey shrugged when Ian shot him a look. He was about to go back for more kissing, and round two, when Mickey asked, _“So, seriously, why the three day wait?”_

_“Family stuff,”_ Ian replied, hedging on what was kind of the truth, if not why he hadn’t come back with Mickey on Friday night.

            _“Like?”_

            He shrugged. _“Wanted to check in on my little sister. Make sure her new interpreter’s okay.”_

_“Why a new one?”_

_“Long story.”_

_“I got time.”_

_“You’ve got seventy-eight combinations left,”_ Ian replied. But Mickey just gave him a look, only one of his blue eyes visible since the other was scrunched into the pillow. With a slight sigh, Ian said _, “Fiona was kinda dating the old one and Debbie liked him, so when she found out everything sorta exploded.”_

_“That why you freaked out the other night?”_

            Ian paused for a second, then nodded. _“She ran away.”_

_“But you found her?”_

_“About an hour before I got here.”_

            Mickey hesitated a second, then said, _“Then why were you freaking out?”_

_“Remember when I told you why Fiona’s always so worried about me?”_ Ian asked and a spark in Mickey’s eyes told him that he did. _“I guess I never realized until that moment how much pain I caused by running away. And I was just... standing there in the middle of all of that all of a sudden and I... I kept thinking, I was gone longer. I was gone for months. They had no idea where I was. What... what-”_

            Mickey shifted forward and kissed him, crushing his moving hands between them. _“It’s okay.”_

_“It wasn’t okay,”_ Ian replied. _“They probably thought I was dead.”_

            Mickey didn’t reply, just stroked his hand through Ian’s red hair. His breath was heavy, hot, and steady, slowing everything down as Ian’s memory went into flashback mode, remembering all the panic rolling over him. Remembering how numb he had been until Debbie had been right in front of him.

            _“It was my fault, too. She never would’ve done it if I hadn’t.”_ Mickey shook his head, but Ian went on, _“She said that to me.”_

            Sadness flickered through the one visible blue eye. And, because there was nothing else to say, Mickey closed the space between them with a kiss. The covers rustled with his movement, falling off of Ian and further onto him. He kissed lightly and soothingly, every inch of his body moving slowly as he pulled Ian closer to him.

            Taking a breath, he pulled back just enough to look into Ian’s eyes. Ian stared at him, wanting Mickey to say something, but also not wanting him to have to move back to do it. Then Mickey started drawing letters on Ian’s back, his fingernails scratching uncertainly against his skin.

            Ian watched his eyes as Mickey spelled out: _Other people’s actions aren’t your fault._

Nodding, Ian kissed Mickey lightly, their lips just glancing together. Then he closed his eyes, listening to the steady nature of Mickey’s breathing, and inadvertently let himself fall asleep.


	40. Chapter 40

_“You coming with me?”_ Mickey signed as he fell into step beside Ian in the hallway.

            Ian hesitated a second. He looked over and saw the slightly annoyed expression on Mickey’s face, despite the fact that he had spent all of Monday night and most of Tuesday morning in bed with him. But it was the first time he had seen him since class last night, and he warmed at the sight of him, annoyed or not.

            _“Fiona’s working a double at the club,”_ Ian replied.

            _“Lip?”_

_“Still at school.”_ Ian watched as Mickey’s face fell and, before he could look away to hide it, Ian asked, _“You wanna come back to my place?”_

            Mickey’s eyes glanced up to Ian’s, searching curiously. _“I’m allowed there?”_

            Ian rolled his eyes before letting his smile settle. _“You wanna come or not?”_

            Mickey nodded and then turned towards the parking lot. Ian followed after him, slipped into the passenger’s seat and dropped his bag down at his feet. Mickey shifted the clunker into gear, the engine coughing and sputtering to a kind of undead life.

            _“You might want to get the engine checked,”_ Ian signed.

            _“It’s fine.”_

_“You can’t hear it.”_

            Shrugging, Mickey pulled out onto the road and started back to Chicago. The long drive was done in silence, Ian staring out the window and only looking back when he thought he felt Mickey’s eyes on him.

            He sat up straighter when they left the highway and started directing Mickey through the cramped streets. Mickey tensed as they drew closer to the house and seemed relieved when Ian indicated the turn off onto his street. He pointed out his house and Mickey pulled the car to a stop, frozen for a moment before looking over at Ian.

            Mickey’s easy calm was shattered.

            _“You okay?”_ Ian signed.

            _“My dad lives about three blocks from here.”_

            Ian licked his lips. _“Mandy said he was an alcoholic?”_

            Mickey snorted. _“That’s a nice way to put it.”_ Ian said nothing, just waited until Mickey started signing again. _“He’s an alcoholic, sure. He’s also a drug addict, wildly homophobic, racist, fascist, the kind of guy who thinks the Nazi’s had the right idea...”_ He dropped his hands to his lap and stared out the windshield. Without looking at Ian, he added, _“He used to molest Mandy.”_

_“I’m sorry.”_

_“Whatever.”_

            Mickey opened the car door and got out. Ian scrambled after him, trying to shake off the heaviness of the moment as easily as Mickey did. But while Mickey seemed fine, his eyes kept darting to the spaces between the houses, as if he was worried that his father might be watching. Taking a deep breath, Ian reached for his hand as he came around to the other side of the car and squeezed tightly.

            Then he dropped it and stepped towards the front door of his house. As soon as he was through the door, Liam came racing out of the other room and wrapped his arms around Ian’s legs. “Ian!” he shouted. Then he caught sight of Mickey and stepped away quickly. “Who are you?” he asked.

            Ian glanced back at Mickey, who had turned to close the door. He knelt down in front of Liam and said, “That’s Mickey. He’s like Debbie.”

            _“Like Debbie?”_ Liam signed and Ian nodded. Liam looked back up at Mickey, waiting for him to turn around, and when he did, signed _, “Hi, I’m Liam.”_

_“Mickey.”_

_“Wanna play Legos?”_

            “Maybe in a bit, okay?” Ian cut in. He stepped further into the house as Liam ran off, Mickey trailing behind him. The living room was a mess of toys and blankets which they had to step carefully through. Liam had plopped down on the couch and was watching a documentary about dolphins with rapt interest.

            Reaching the kitchen, Ian dropped his bag by the side of the counter and then turned to Mickey. _“Hungry?”_ he signed.

            Mickey shrugged and looked around the small space. There were dishes piled in the sink, sticky notes fluttering across the floor, and Ian’s pill box lying on the counter in plain sight. Ian glanced towards it, but elected to ignore it, knowing hiding it would only bring attention to it. Instead, he turned to Debbie who was working studiously at the kitchen table.

            Walking over, he tapped her on the shoulder. She looked up, immediately annoyed, and Ian signed, _“Debs, this is Mickey. Mickey, this is Debbie.”_

            She waved to him, shot Ian a weird look, then went back to her homework. Smiling slightly, Ian turned to Mickey and said, _“She’ll warm up to you. Give me two minutes and I’ll be right back.”_

            Mickey nodded and Ian headed up the stairs. He knocked on the door to his bedroom and heard Carl mumble something. “You alive in there?” Ian called. Again, Carl just mumbled something.

            Ian opened the door and stepped inside, to see Carl wearing a red and gold wrestling mask. He pulled it up and said, “I _said_ I’m practicing for tryouts tomorrow.”

            “You know it’s not like it is on TV, right?”

            He shrugged. “We’ll see tomorrow when I’m-” He pulled down the mask and whatever name he was calling himself became pure gibberish.

            Smiling, Ian said, “Just don’t break anything,” and closed the door as he stepped out of the room.

            With a sigh, he headed back down the stairs, stopping just above the bottom step as he saw Debbie and Mickey signing to each other. Mickey had a pencil in his hand and was explaining the math problem on the page as Debbie asked questions. Leaning against the wall, Ian watched their easy conversation back and forth until Debbie circled an answer and looked up curiously at Mickey, who nodded.

            Ian stepped down  and joined them at the table. _“What’re you talking about?”_ he asked, sitting across from Mickey.

            _“You’re sister’s better at math than you are.”_

            Dropping his jaw in mock shock, Ian kicked Mickey under the table, who caught his leg between both of his. Ian struggled to get out, knocking the table with the top of his knee as Mickey pulled on his leg, his grip slipping until their feet were brushing together, tangling under the table in an epic footsie war.

            Debbie looked between both of them before signing, _“You’re dorks,”_ and grabbing her stuff to head upstairs.

            _“Debs,”_ Ian signed, but she wasn’t looking. He let his side of the war fall, Mickey’s feet coming down over top of his, nice and warm. Mickey scratched his toes over the tops of Ian’s feet and Ian looked back at him.

            _“She seems old enough to babysit,”_ he signed.

            _“Yeah, well, since she ran away the other week, Fiona doesn’t really wanna leave her in charge.”_

            Mickey licked his lips and slipped one of his feet under Ian’s. Rubbing his toes against the arch of Ian’s foot, he signed, _“Wanna fool around?”_

            Biting his bottom lip, Ian stared into Mickey’s eyes for a long moment before nodding and leading him up the stairs. He turned away from his bedroom and into Lip’s, closing the door behind them.


	41. Chapter 41

Ian woke slowly, feeling the heat of Mickey’s body in front of him. He didn’t open his eyes. The crooks of their knees fit together like puzzle pieces, strands of Mickey’s hair fluttered beneath his lips, and Mickey’s arm fit just above his. He leaned his head forward and kissed the back of Mickey’s neck and down to his shoulder.

            Mickey shifted slightly, grumbling in his sleep. Ian kissed his skin, his lips trailing down Mickey’s spine, and then pulled back until his front side was warm just with the ghost of Mickey’s heat. He waited a long second until he heard Mickey roll over to face him in the darkness. Then his eyes flickered open to meet early morning blue, caked with sleep.

            Pulling his hands out from under the covers, Ian signed, _“I have to go to work.”_

_“Five more minutes.”_

            Mickey kissed him lightly, both their lips still numb with sleep. And Ian let Mickey pull him into the kiss, exploring slowly, until he heard a crash downstairs. With a grumbling sigh, he forced himself to pull back and said, _“I have to go.”_

_“Be late.”_

            Ian kissed Mickey again, rolled so that he was on top of him, let his breath flicker over Mickey’s neck, and then stood up. Mickey moaned in protest, his eyes closing as the heat of the bed came back over him.

            Ian smiled down at him, trying not to let his eyes linger for too long. Another crash pulled him away and he pulled on his boxers, threw on whatever clothes Lip had left behind, and headed downstairs. He waved good morning to Fiona as he pulled on his coat and said, “Mick’s upstairs. Just let him know where the diner is when he gets up?”

            Fiona blinked, looking up from the mess of bowls that were scattered across the floor. “Who’s Mick?”

            “You know,” he said as he opened the back door. Fiona gave him an incredulous look and Ian sighed. “Just tell him to come to the diner.”

            “Okay.”

            “And he’s deaf, so... sign it.”

            She nodded, confused, as Ian slipped out the back door. He walked to the diner quickly, went through the backdoor, and clocked in while tying his apron strings into a knot. He could hear the breakfast rush –dishes clattering and waitresses’ heels clicking– as he grabbed his plastic tub and headed out into the diner.

            “We’re backed up and down a waitress,” Jackie said as she clipped orders onto the metal turntable.

            Sighing, Ian headed out into the restaurant, clearing tables as quickly as he could. His clatter was nothing compared to the noise of people talking and arguing and the kitchen hissing in the background. He filled his tub to the brim, held up four fingers to the host as he passed, and then sped up to leave room for the people moving to their new tables.

            He worked tirelessly for two hours before the traffic slowed down and his hands were raw from the hot water. Standing behind the counter, he wiped down a spot only to have it immediately filled a few seconds later. He looked up and Mickey smiled at him.

            _“Good sleep?”_ Ian signed.

            _“Fuck off.”_

            Laughing, Ian asked, _“Whaddya want?”_

            Mickey ordered waffles and Ian scribbled it down on a piece of paper before adding it to the list of orders. Grabbing his tub, he paused just long enough to peck Mickey on the lips before heading back to washing dishes. He made the water a little colder, his lips still tingling from the kiss.

            He went back out to the front admittedly more times than he should have. Jackie shook her head at him, but smiled every time he paused to talk to Mickey. Mickey shifted uncomfortably at the attention, but ate his waffles incredibly slowly, until Ian was sure that they had to be cold.

            The diner was just starting to clear out, the breakfast rush over, when Adam walked in. Ian gave him a look, sighing slightly, and turned away just as Adam got to the counter. “Hey, Ian,” he said.

            Ian rubbed a hand across his mouth and looked over tiredly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mickey tense up, as if ready to fight Adam. And as much as Ian would’ve loved for Adam to get punched in the face, he reached over to take Mickey’s hand to let him know that it was all right.

            Adam glanced over to Mickey and said, “Hi. I’m Adam.”

            “He’s deaf.”

            Adam quickly signed what he had said and added, _“How do you know Ian?”_

            At the same time, Ian signed, _“We’re fuck buddies,”_ as Mickey signed _, “Boyfriends.”_

            Mickey looked up at Ian, disgusted, and said, _“You’re gonna say ‘fuck buddies’ to a complete stranger?”_

_“You’re gonna say boyfriend?”_

            Mickey looked down and shrugged.

            Ian looked over at Adam, the edges of his smile fading, and asked, “Why are you here?”

            Adam swallowed and said, “I just wanted to come by and apologize. Ask how Debbie’s doing, how Sheila’s doing? I really am sorry for what I put your family through. It was truly unprofessional and I shouldn’t have done it.”

            “Debbie’s fine, Sheila’s great, and I don’t care that you’re sorry.”

            “I just-”

            _“He said,”_ Mickey interrupted, _“that he doesn’t care.”_

            Adam looked over at Mickey, his eyes scanning him quickly. He licked his lips and held up his hands, slipping off of the stool. _“No, you’re right,”_ he signed. _“I shouldn’t be here. You two have a great day and I... I’ll go.”_

            He rushed out of the door and Mickey snorted, turning back to his cold waffles.

            Ian dipped down across the counter and kissed Mickey, who kept his lips closed around a mouthful of food. Pulling back, Ian smiled, and signed, _“Thanks. Boyfriend.”_

_“Fuck off.”_

            Smiling, Ian headed back to his sink and finished the rest of his shift humming happily to himself. When he clocked out, Mickey followed him from the diner and the two of them piled into his car to drive to the university together.


	42. Chapter 42

Mickey dropped down in the seat across from Ian in the coffee shop, picking up Ian’s feet and then resting them back down on top of his knees. He leaned forward across the table, picked up Ian’s coffee, and took a sip. He winced at its bitter taste, but swallowed the black coffee more easily than his sister had.

            _“You coming over?”_ Mickey signed.

            Ian licked his lips _. “Can’t.”_

_“Babysitting?”_

            Ian nodded and watched as Mickey rolled his eyes. He could sense how annoyed Mickey was despite the fact that he had slept over last night. But, still, he too was getting used to waking up with Mickey curled in his arms and hated that he had to give it up every Friday night.

            Tapping his foot against the inside of Mickey’s thigh, he glanced down at what he was working on and then shut his notebook. Dropping his feet from Mickey’s lap, he shifted forward and said impulsively, _“Let’s do it now.”_

            Mickey gave him a look.

            _“Name a spot. We’ll have sex.”_

            A disgusted, gagging sound came from behind the counter and Ian looked up to see Mandy miming vomiting behind the counter. He smiled and looked back at Mickey, raising one eyebrow.

            _“Right now?”_

_“Right now.”_

            Mickey considered this for a second and then said, _“You don’t have lube here.”_

            Ian made a face, then shrugged. _“Blow job.”_

            For a long moment, Mickey was silent. Then he licked his lips, nodded, and got up from the chair. Ian scrambled to get his stuff together, stuffing everything into his backpack as Mandy once again started gagging behind the counter. He flipped her off as they walked out the door.

            Mickey guided him out of the coffee shop and towards the library. They went through the front doors, up three floors, and started wandering through the dusty shelves. The floor was completely quiet, empty of all but two or three people. Mickey swung his hand back and grabbed Ian, pulling him faster through the empty aisles until he reached a place where the lights flickered uncertainly overhead.

            He turned towards Ian, a smile spreading across his lips, and pulled him closer. Ian let himself be kissed, letting Mickey set the pace slow. Ian stepped forward, guiding Mickey towards the back wall, and leaned him back against it.

            He slipped his lips off of Mickey’s and down his jaw. Resting his lips against Mickey’s pulse, he gave him three slow kisses against the rapid beat of his heart and then dipped his lips to the collar of his shirt.

            Slowly, he undid the button and zipper on Mickey’s jeans before dipping his hand into his underwear. Mickey groaned slightly as Ian wrapped his hand around Mickey’s dick, moving slowly up and down as Mickey wriggled under him.

            He used his other hand to grasp the base of Mickey’s neck, pulling their lips back together as he gripped harder. Mickey groaned against his lips, his hot breath entering Ian’s mouth as Ian pulled away too fast and got to his knees in front of him.

            _“Too bad you can’t use one of the combos now,”_ Mickey signed, his fingers slurring the words as he looked down at Ian. His eyes were heavy with pleasure and his calm shattered when Ian smiled up at him.

            Without a word, Ian slipped Mickey’s underwear down to reveal his cock, already hardening under his grasp. He stopped his hand at the base of Mickey’s dick and lowered his lips to his penis, grazing light kisses along his shaft. Mickey grunted, biting his lips to try not to make a sound as Ian used his tongue to lick back down to the tip.

            Dipping his tongue under the tip, Ian felt Mickey gasp with his whole body. He wrapped his mouth around the tip, starting up slowly, moving his mouth in unison with his hand along the top of his shaft. He slowly pulled back his hand, moving further up the length of Mickey’s dick, going up and down slowly, testing his gag reflex.

            When he neared the top, he lowered his teeth gently and tickled them down the length of Mickey’s erection. Mickey’s whole body shuddered with a loud groan as Ian flickered his tongue behind his teeth.

            He slipped his mouth away from his dick, turning his head to kiss the insides of Mickey’s thighs, causing Mickey to groan. Ian did his best not to let the sound affect him, even as lust poured through him and he felt himself going hard. Breathing heavily, he pulled Mickey’s legs further apart to press his lips against Mickey’s soft skin.

            Then Ian looked up, slightly more calm, his hand going back around Mickey’s cock, moving slowly up and down its length. Mickey’s eyes flickered down to him, heavily lidded. He signed, _“You’re gonna have to do this more often.”_

            With a smile, Ian licked the tip of Mickey’s dick before wrapping his mouth back around it. He sped up slightly, licking as he moved up and down the length of his shaft, sending Mickey into rumbling groans. Ian felt his own body tremble in response. He reached back around to grab Mickey’s ass, kneading inwards until he could slip two fingers into the crack.

            Mickey wriggled, moaning, as Ian sped up, using his hand to keep a steady rhythm. He tried to keep himself from getting too excited as he moved his fingers and Mickey let out loud notes of pleasure. He slowed just as he felt Mickey get ready to come, pulling away from his cock and licking up its length. He teased his tongue around its tip and then slipped his fingers out of Mickey’s ass to finish off.

            He rocked back and forth quickly, playing his fingers around Mickey’s balls until Mickey came with a groan. Ian swallowed, his throat stinging with sweetness, and then kissed his way up the length of Mickey’s cock to the skin at his waist. He slowly got to his feet, his lips never leaving Mickey as he stood, and then kissed him hard on the lips.

            His whole body was shuddering, tense with his own desire as he leaned their foreheads together. He stared at the closed tops of Mickey’s eyelids and forced himself to take deep breaths.

            Mickey pushed him back a bit to sign, _“Good thing I taught you how to kiss.”_

            Laughing, Ian went back to kiss him again, their bodies rumbling together. He leaned against Mickey, letting his lips fall to the base of his neck, and breathed in Mickey’s scent. They were still for a long moment, breathing in sync, before Mickey reached down and wrapped his hand around Ian’s hard cock.

            Ian groaned, pulling back as he said, _“I have class.”_

            “Be late,” Mickey said aloud. He rubbed a hand against Ian’s crotch, smiling as he did so, and leaned forward for another kiss.

            Ian let himself be kissed, the feel of Mickey’s hand a godsend. Mickey’s fingers tickled the skin at his waist and dipped below the waistband of his jeans. Ian forced himself to pull back quickly as he felt his body react.

            _“I have to get to class,”_ he signed.

            Mickey sighed.

            Ian stepped further away, trying to relax. He couldn’t bring himself to pull his eyes off of Mickey’s. _“You know, everyone in the whole building probably heard you.”_

            He smiled and flipped Ian off.

            Ian licked his lips, and stared at Mickey for a second too long before forcing himself to walk away. On an impulse, just before he turned, he blew Mickey a kiss.


	43. Chapter 43

Stumbling down the stairs Saturday morning, Ian sniffed and waved a sleepy good morning to Fiona. She barely looked up from the eggs she was cooking, her hair tied tight in a high bun. She wasn’t even fully dressed, wearing tight shorts and a bra.

            Ian gave her a look. “Rough night?” he asked.

            She didn’t look up. “Double shift. Came home at four in the morning, checked that all of you were here, and then fell asleep without setting an alarm. Liam and Carl are already up, playing Grand Theft Auto in the living room and I don’t have breakfast ready.”

            “I just thought someone got shot.”

            She smiled.

            “You want some help?”

            “If you could get the bacon in the microwave, that’d be great.”

            Ian walked around the kitchen counter and pulled the bacon out of the freezer. He checked the instructions, then took every slice out of the package before putting it on a piece of paper towel in the microwave. He clicked in the numbers then sat up on the counter, pouring himself a cup of coffee as he did.

            “You can’t drink that,” Fiona said as the egg timer chimed. Turning it off, she pulled the hard boiled eggs from the water while scrambling more eggs with the other hand.

            “I have a blood test today.”

            She sighed. “That’s not the point.”

            He shrugged and sipped the coffee.

            Fiona was silent for a second and then, in the forced way of someone trying to be casual about something they’ve been meaning to say for a long time, she said, “Speaking of your meds, I was thinking.” She paused as she scooped the scrambled eggs out of the pan and cracked two more eggs. “If you’re gonna be spending nights elsewhere, maybe you should keep some in your bag. You know, so you’re not missing them.”

            “Already did.”

            She looked up, shocked, and Ian just stared back at her, sipping coffee. “When?”

            “I don’t know. Wednesday?” Ian replied. He slipped off of the counter to take the plates of food away, setting them down in the middle of the kitchen table. “I thought it’d be better if I actually stuck to the schedule, you know?”

            “Oh, well, that’s good.” She flopped more scrambled eggs out of the pan. “I mean, that’s great, Ian. I’m sorry. I know you said you wanted me to be less in your face and-”

            “You’re doing great,” he said, forcing a smile. “Thanks for worrying.”

            She smiled back. “You know I’ll never stop.”

            Ian laughed and pulled the bacon from the microwave right before it beeped. He dumped it out onto a plate and added it to the pile of food on the kitchen table. Then he sat on a stool in front of Fiona and said, “But I’m good. You don’t have to worry about me.”

            Nodding, Fiona said, “Well, Mickey seems... nice.”

            He tried to stop his smile from spreading and asked, “Yeah?”

            “First words he said were, ‘where the fuck is Ian’, so at least he cares about you,” she said. “And really, anything’s a step up from a drug dealing octogenarian.”

            Ian snorted. “He was forty.”

            “Still illegal.”

            He reached over the counter and grabbed the toast that popped out of the toaster. He set it on another plate, added it to the pile on the table, then said, “Mickey’s a year older. He’s in school. He works at some tire garage somewhere. Grew up a few blocks from here.”

            “Really?” Fiona wrinkled her nose as she turned off the burners on the stove. “What’s his last name?”

            “Milkovich.”

            Fiona whistled as she scraped the last of the eggs onto a plate and handed it to Ian. “Messed up family they got there.”

            “Worse than us?”

            She shrugged. “At least we got rid of our awful parents, right?”

            Ian snorted and licked his fingers to get rid of the pieces of egg that stuck to them. He sat back on the stool facing Fiona, who stared at him as if trying to figure out what to say. Finally, she asked, “You happy?”

            He shrugged.

            “Come on,” she said. “An answer to that’s not asking much?”

            Ian shrugged again, then smiled when Fiona rolled her eyes. She yelled for everyone to come to breakfast, but when she turned back, Ian said, “I’m happy. It’s weird though.” He sighed. “We’re not... we’re not really together.”

            “He was in your bed.”

            “It’s complicated.”

            Fiona smiled softly. “I hope everything works out.”

            “Me too,” Ian replied, just as all of his younger siblings ran past him to the table. Fiona sighed and then the two of them sat down at the table, Fiona yelling at the younger kids not to act like animals.


	44. Chapter 44

Late Monday night, nearly Tuesday morning, Ian rolled out of Mickey’s bed minutes after having pulled out. Mickey stared at him, saying nothing about his quick departure, just watching as Ian dressed.

            Ian looked back at him, lit by the muted streetlights, and tried his best to resist the urge to crawl back into bed. He would have stayed all night, no problem, if Mandy hadn’t given him a sad look as he came into the apartment. A look that reminded him just how much Mickey didn’t love him. And how badly his heart skipped at the sparkle in Mickey’s blue eyes.

            Fully dressed, he turned back to kiss Mickey goodbye, but paused as Mickey signed, _“There’s this party Friday night.”_ Ian stared, not sure what to say to that. Mickey licked his lips and added, _“Halloween or whatever. You maybe wanna go?”_

            For a very long moment, Ian just stared, unsure if he was interpreting correctly. His brain seemed frozen in place, lost in the world of processing signed words, and he wondered if he had fallen asleep. If this was a dream. If Mickey was really lying in bed, asking him to go to a Halloween party.

            _“Like a date?”_ Ian finally replied.

            Mickey shrugged uncomfortably.

            _“I thought you didn’t want that.”_ Ian replied calmly, even as his heart beat halfway out of his chest.

            Mickey’s eyes flickered away from his. He shifted in bed, pulling up into more of a sitting position, before finally looking back at Ian. The quiet around them was so tense Ian was desperate to break it, but he knew he couldn’t.

            Mickey signed _, “But you want it. Don’t you?”_

_“To date you?”_ Ian asked, stupidly. He swallowed. _“Of course.”_

            Again, Mickey shrugged. _“Then, yeah. As a date.”_

            And as Ian stared at the blue-eyed boy still wrapped in his covers, his heart sank like a stone. _“I can’t.”_ Then, quickly, before Mickey could look away, he added, _“I’m babysitting.”_

            Mickey smirked. _“Not over that bullshit excuse yet?”_

            _“I have to take Liam and Carl trick-or-treating,”_ Ian explained. Mickey just stared at him, unconvinced. _“Fiona gets insane tips for dressing up in this ridiculous cat woman costume at the club for Halloween and Lip’s not coming home, because there’s a party in the dorm he has to ‘supervise’ or whatever, and then Debbie’s too cool for trick-or-treating. So it’s down to me.”_

            Mickey sighed, rolling his eyes. Then he said _, “I’ll come.”_

_“You’ll come?”_

            He shrugged. _“Why not?”_

            Ian tried to hide the smile spreading across his lips as he crawled back onto the bed, sitting on his heels a foot away from Mickey. _“You’re idea of a great first date is to go trick-or-treating with two little kids? One of which is barely potty trained and the other who is_ hoping _to find razor blades in his candy?”_

            _“Sure,”_ he replied. He licked his lips. _“We can take the little buggers out to get their candy, put them to bed, then eat all the good stuff while they’re sleeping.”_

            Ian laughed and leaned down to kiss Mickey, the smile still on his lips. Mickey used the kiss to his advantage, pulling Ian in by the back of his neck and then rolling them both back down onto the bed. Ian wrapped his arm around Mickey’s bare back, pressing them together, and laid kissing him for a long time before pulling back.

            _“You really wanna go trick-or-treating?”_

_“I’ve never been before.”_

            Ian’s mouth dropped, this time completely honestly, and Mickey shrugged, once again uncomfortable with Ian’s closeness. Ian kissed him, letting him know it was all right, and then rolled away. _“Okay. First date. Friday night.”_

_“That mean you’re coming back to bed?”_

            Desire ran hot through his blood, but he shook his head. _“No way. We tried this your way, now we’re doing it mine.”_

            Mickey frowned _. “And what’s your way?”_

_“No sex ‘til the third date.”_

_“Bullshit.”_

_“It was your idea.”_

_“So you’re not gonna sleep with the guy you’ve been sleeping with for weeks because you started dating him and have some bullshit rule about the third date?”_

            Ian paused for a second and then nodded.

            Mickey grabbed for his hand, trying to pull him back to bed, but Ian stepped out of reach, his smile electric in the dark room. _“I’ll see you in class,”_ he said, backing away to the door. He was desperate for a goodbye kiss, but knew if he went in for one Mickey would convince him to stay.

            The last thing he saw before closing the door was Mickey flipping him off.


	45. Chapter 45

Mandy sighed as she dropped her pen in the middle of Psychology class. Her face was lined with worry. Ian caught her eyes and said, “You think it’s a bad idea.”

            “I think it’s a terrible idea.”

            “Since you’re dating my brother, I find that a tad hypocritical,” he said, mimicking her.

            She shot him a sarcastic smile and then looked back down at her notebook, shaking her head. “It’s just... Mickey doesn’t date anyone. Never has. He’s a one-night stand kinda guy. Or a week or month long romp in bed kinda guy. I don’t think he’s ever even _been_ on a date before.”

            “Well, he asked me.”

            “Which is good,” Mandy relented. She looked at him, forcing a smile. “And it’s been a while and he doesn’t wanna just pull out of everything and run, so... that’s good too. But I just... I don’t know. I have nothing to say to you because he has honestly never had a relationship and that scares the shit out of me.”

            “It doesn’t scare me.”

            “Then you’re an idiot.”

            Ian sighed and licked his lips. He was missing all of the notes, but he resolved to spend a lot of time in the library. He had nothing else to do, after all, now that he had told Mickey no sex until the third date. Something he was now regretting, not only because of the pent up energy inside him, but because it sounded like a challenge. And Mickey wasn’t going to back down from a challenge, even if he didn’t really want to date him.

            But, despite his misgivings, he still went on the defensive against Mandy. “You don’t see the way he looks at me.”

            “I guess not.”

            “And you didn’t see him with my siblings or at the diner with Adam or in bed late at night when he talked in his sleep and...” Ian trailed off, the tip of his pen digging into his paper. He forced himself to loosen his grip and the pen clattered off the small desk onto the floor. “He’s not gonna leave me, okay? I know how he feels.”

            “He’s told you?”

            Ian sighed. “He’s not a big talker.”

            Mandy was silent for a moment, doodling hearts on her notebook. Then she dropped her pen too and looked over at Ian. “Look, if he really does like you, then I’m happy for you. I am. I hope you get married and adopt a hundred babies and stay together until you’re so old that you can’t hear either.” She licked her lips. “I just have this feeling in my gut telling me that he’s gonna break your heart.”

            He stared back at her. “Now you know how I feel about you and Lip.”

            “Yeah, but the difference is I’m bitter as fuck and don’t really expect him to love me or treat me right or even give me the common courtesy of telling me when it’s over. I’ve lived my whole life expecting to be treated like shit,” she said. “And somehow you came out of the same fucked up neighbourhood still looking for a fairytale. And I’m not sure Mick’s the one to give it to you.”

            “You could at least give him a chance.”

            She sighed. “Yeah. I’ll give him a chance. But don’t be disappointed if it falls to pieces.”

            “I have it under control,” Ian lied.

            And Mandy, despite obviously not believing him, nodded before looking back at her notebook. Ian let the silence between them linger for a moment before asking, “How are things going with Lip?”

            She shrugged. “Good, I guess.”

            “Good?”

            “He doesn’t hit me. He takes me places. He makes sure I finish first. What else can a girl ask for?”

            Ian immediately started making a mental list of all the other things she could ask for, things his brother certainly wasn’t doing, but kept them to himself. He shrugged and asked, “You’re happy?”

            She looked up. “Are you?”

            After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded.

            “Me too.”

            Then their conversation dissolved into silence and Ian tried not to let his happy bubble become entangled in the vines of doubt reaching around it, threatening to choke it. _I’ve got it under control,_ Ian repeated. But as his heart pounded at the thought of Mickey showing up for a date, he couldn’t even bring himself to believe that there was a reason he needed to have his heart under control.


	46. Chapter 46

 “LIAM!” Ian yelled, chasing after his little brother as he ran across the room, wearing only the cape of his superhero costume. “Carl, a little help?” Ian asked as they went racing into the living room.

            Carl looked up from the couch, his face covered in chocolate, his hand reaching back into the bowl of candy that was supposed to be for handing out. At least half of it was wrappers already. “You’re doin’ great,” he mumbled around the chocolate.

            “Stop eating,” Ian said.

            “It’s part of my costume.”

            “Yeah? What the fuck is your costume anyways?” Ian asked as he grabbed Liam by the waist and lifted him, kicking, into the air.

            “Count Chocula!”

            Ian looked at him as he set Liam down on the couch beside him. Carl was wearing all black and had nothing remotely resembling the cape of a vampire. The chocolate stains around his mouth were the most authentic part of his costume. Sighing, Ian said, “Okay, stop eating. Go upstairs and wrap Fiona’s big black sweater around your neck, okay?”

            Rolling his eyes, Carl bounced off the couch and headed up the stairs. Ian went back to focussing on Liam, who had an open chocolate bar halfway in his mouth. “Not you too,” Ian groaned. He took the chocolate bar, wrestling it from Liam’s teeth, and wiped at the chocolate on his face with the sleeves of his shirt.

            He picked up the superman costume from the back of the couch and held it out to Liam, who gave him an incredulous look well beyond his five years. Ian glared back at him, but gave up the staring contest first and started to pull the costume over Liam’s arms as he struggled and screamed.

            A knock sounded at the door and Ian swore. He pulled the costume over Liam’s shoulders, gave him strict instructions to zip it up and stay where he was, before walking over to the door.

            Hesitating with his hand on the doorknob, he took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. This, he was sure, had been a terrible idea. Between his two brothers acting like demons, the inevitable sugar crash, and the crowded streets, it would hands down be the worst first date ever. And probably convince Mickey that he was right to not want to date anyone ever.

            Exhaling deeply, he opened the door with a smile to see Mickey standing there, hands in his jean pockets, looking incredibly cold without a jacket in the late October evening. Ian signed, _“Come in,”_ and stepped out of the way, closing the door behind Mickey as he entered _. “No jacket?”_

_“Didn’t think it was cold.”_

            Smiling, Ian grabbed one of Lip’s coats from the rack and handed it to Mickey. He was starting a sentence when Liam ran into the small mud room, once again only wearing the cape, and shouted, “Mickey!”

            Ian gave him a look.

            Liam signed, _“Hi! Are you going trick-or-treating with us?”_

            Licking his lips, Mickey signed _, “Yeah.”_

            “YAY!” Liam screamed.

            Ian winced at the sound and Mickey smirked at him. Shaking his head, Ian signed _, “See if you can get him into his costume?”_ and then headed to the foot of the stairs to yell, “CARL!”

            “I can’t find the sweater!”

            Sighing, Ian looked back to see Mickey signing with Liam, bribing him to get into the costume. And it seemed to be working. So he headed up the stairs and found Carl in Fiona’s room, knee deep in the underwear drawer.

            “Come on, perv, it’s not gonna be in there.”

            Ian pulled Carl over to the closet and took out the black sweater. He wrapped it around Carl’s shoulders, making the worst cape in the world but the best he could do with the time crunch, and stepped back to admire his work.

            He licked his lips. “You sure you’re not too old for this?”

            Carl snorted. “Who’s too old for candy?”

            Shrugging, Ian said, “Losers.” Then, as Carl turned to go back downstairs, he added, “Hey. Be nice to Mick, okay? And remember to sign?”

            Carl rolled his eyes, “Sir, yes, sir.”

            Ian smiled and headed after his brother, coming down the stairs to find Liam’s face once again covered with chocolate, but the superman costume on. He breathed a sigh of relief and looked over at Mickey, who was licking the last evidence of chocolate from his lips.

            _“Is there any candy left?”_ he signed.

            Mickey tossed him a piece. _“Last one.”_

            Ian hesitated.

            _“No one’s here to pass ‘em out anyways.”_

            He conceded the point and popped the tiny chocolate bar into his mouth in one bite. He signed, _“Let’s go,”_ and shoved Carl towards the door. Mickey picked Liam up off the couch and set him down on the ground. The little guy immediately ran for the door, reaching to open it at the exact same time as Carl, who shoved him off and ran out onto the street.

            “Wait up!” Ian yelled, but Carl was already at the next house, bouncing over the lawn in order to ring the doorbell. Looking back at Mickey, Ian signed, _“You ready?”_ and got a shrug in reply.

            Running out the door, Ian picked up Liam as he went and dashed to the door to stop Carl from repeatedly ringing the doorbell. He grabbed his little fingers and glanced back, seeing Mickey standing at the end of the walk like a proper parent would. Ian dropped Liam to the porch and said, “You guys remember what to say?”

            Carl rolled his eyes as Liam nodded.

            Then, licking his lips, Ian said, “Remember: please and thank you.”

            He backed off of the porch, watching as someone approached the door. The door swung open just as he reached Mickey’s side and he heard two different yells. Carl screamed, “TRICK OR TREAT!” as Liam screamed, “PLEASE AND THANK YOU!”

            Ian put his hand to his mouth, not sure if he should laugh or cringe. Mickey stared at them unblinkingly, waiting for them to come back down the porch. The door closed and the two came back, Carl admonishing Liam for not saying the right words. He walked right passed Ian and Mickey without a word.

            _“What’d you get?”_ Ian signed to Liam.

            _“Candy!”_ he replied.

            Mickey cracked a smile and the three of them walked on to the next house. Ian pushed Liam after Carl at the end of the walk and waited until two matching screams of, “TRICK OR TREAT!” filled the air.

            He turned to Mickey and signed, _“Having fun?”_

_“Tons.”_

            Ian glanced back to his brothers as Carl reached into the bowl and took a handful of candy. With a sigh, he asked, _“You sure?”_

_“I can’t hear them,”_ Mickey replied with a smirk.

            Exhaling a laugh, Ian started walking as the two boys headed to the next house. Carl had taken Liam’s hand, dragging him behind him as he dashed towards the next house. Liam scrambled on his tiny legs, but had a bright smile on his face, lighting up the whole street.

            Ian and Mickey followed after slowly. Ian waved to the parents they passed and made faces at the neighbourhood kids that he knew. He could feel Mickey watching him, and he knew that he must be bored out his mind, but every time he looked up Mickey seemed fine. He reached out and took his hand as they moved onto the next neighbourhood and Mickey let him.

            “Your boys are so cute!” a woman called from a house on the corner.

            Hiding a smile, Ian called, “Thank you!” and waved as the kids came back towards them. He glanced towards Mickey, who had raised one eyebrow, and Ian rolled his eyes. _“You want me to explain that we’re on our first date taking my brother’s trick-or-treating?”_

            He shrugged _. “I’m a little offended they think we’re old enough to have Carl as a son.”_

            Ian snorted, a smile spreading across his lips. They walked for a while longer, their hands turning sweaty in each others’ grasps, as they followed after the kids. The reactions were mixed, but overall there were more positive ones than Ian had expected.

            They turned onto a new street and Mickey pulled his hand out of Ian’s. He signed, _“We have to go down this one?”_

            Looking ahead to where the kids were knocking on the first door, Ian said, _“Why not?”_

_“My dad’s house.”_

            Ian cleared his throat, glanced at the kids, and then yelled, “Hey! Come on. We’re skipping this street.”

            Carl completely ignored him and moved on to the next house, pulling Liam with him. Ian gave Mickey an apologetic glance and said, _“I can go with them and you can stay here?”_

            Rubbing a hand across his face, Mickey shook his head. _“It’s fine. Doubt his lights’ll be on anyways.”_

            Ian nodded, but kept a closer eye on Mickey than on the kids as they walked down the street. He wanted more than anything to take Mickey’s hand again, to let him know it’d be all right, but he knew that would only make it worse. So he watched with a growing sense of worry as Mickey got progressively more nervous, his lips thinning into a line as they walked down the street.

            Eight houses down, Mickey cursed. Ian looked over at him and Mickey signed, _“The lights are on.”_

_“We’ll skip it.”_

            Mickey bit his bottom lip for a long moment and then shook his head. _“It’s fine.”_

_“Mick.”_

_“It’s fine.”_

            Ian dropped his hands, watching as Carl and Liam went from one house to the next, wondering which house it was that was Mickey’s dad’s. It was obvious when they got to it. Faded blue, broken windows, and creaky porch steps. Mickey turned his back to the door as the kids ran up the steps and Ian looked at him, then back at the door as it opened.

            “Hey, there, kiddos,” a guy said. A guy who was definitely not old enough to be Mickey’s dad. And, even if he had been, from what Ian knew of Mickey’s dad he definitely wouldn’t have expected him to have a goofy smile on his face. The guy held the bowl high above his head and said, “We’re gonna play a game, all right?”

            Ian nudged Mickey with his elbow and signed, _“I don’t think it’s your dad.”_

            Mickey gave him a look, then glanced over his shoulder. The relief on his face was palpable as he looked up to the door and then he headed up the stairs with Ian following behind. The guy was explaining the game to the kids, Liam bouncing with excitement, and Carl staring at him like he’d suggested eating brussel sprouts for fun. He looked up as the two of them approached and his mouth dropped.

            “Hey, Mick,” he said aloud. He set the candy to the side and stepped out onto the porch, ignoring Carl as he darted behind him to grab a handful of candy. “How you doin’?”

            _“Great,”_ Mickey signed.

            The guy’s eyes moved over to Ian and he held out his hand, “Iggy.”

            “Ian.”

            Iggy dropped his hand and looked over at his brother. “Well, you’ve only been gone three months, so I’m assuming that’s not long enough to’ve adopted kids.”

            Mickey snorted and signed, _“Ian’s siblings.”_

            “They’re bad sports.”

            _“All kids in this neighbourhood are bad sports.”_

            “How’s Mandy?”

            Mickey shrugged. _“Finally dumped her boyfriend. Dating a new asshole.”_ As Iggy laughed, Mickey asked, _“Where’s dad?”_

            “Prison. Attempted armed robbery. Should be out by Thanksgiving.” Mickey swore as Iggy nodded towards the street. He said,  “You should probably go after your kids there.”

            Ian turned to see them scrambling towards the next house, Carl practically dragging Liam behind him. Mickey snorted, signed, _“Thanks”_ and headed back down the steps.

            Iggy waved and called, “Nice meeting you!” before closing the door.

            They headed back down the street after the kids, trailing a little behind them. Ian gave Mickey a look and he signed, _“my brother”_ in response. Carl and Liam came racing down from the next house, Liam’s smile fading from his lips, and Ian called, “Whoa. Whoa, slow down.”

            Carl reluctantly stopped and Ian knelt down in front of Liam. “You doin’ okay?”

            Liam shook his head and yawned. He signed _, “Tired.”_

            “Okay, we’ll go home then,” Ian said and Carl groaned. “It’s late and both of you need to get to bed.”

            “You just wanna make out with your boyfriend,” Carl shot back.

            Ian rolled his eyes and, after a few more minutes of arguing, let Carl finish the street. Liam stumbled along beside Ian and Mickey until Mickey picked him up off the ground and slung him sleepily over his shoulder. Ian tried not to shoot too many glances their way, the smile on his lips hard to hide as Liam fell asleep, drooling against Mickey’s borrowed jacket.

            At the end of the street, Carl wanted to do another, so Ian had to drag him, kicking and screaming, back to their house. They cut through several backyards, waving at neighbours whose names they didn’t know, and fielding several more compliments about how cute their kids were.

            Carl was yawning by the time they got back to the house, his wrist limp in Ian’s grasp. Ian took the candy bags from both boys and slung them onto the coffee table. Carl grabbed for his, but Ian turned him around and sent him up the stairs. Turning, he took Liam from Mickey, and walked up the stairs with him.

            He entered his bedroom with his brothers and laid Liam down on his bed as Carl scrambled into the top bunk. He kissed Liam on the head and then looked up at Carl. “Goodnight,” he said.

            “Fuck off,” Carl mumbled.

            Trying not to laugh, Ian headed out and turned off the light. He closed the door quietly and crept back down the stairs to where Mickey was sitting in front of the coffee table, wading through the candy.

            Ian sat down beside him and signed, _“Anything good?”_

_“Mostly no name.”_

_“No name candy?”_

_“Wanna guess how much is drugged?”_

            Snorting, Ian started going through the candy, throwing away the pieces that had open wrappers. His knee knocked against Mickey’s as they worked and a few minutes in, Mickey grunted. He held up a mini Mars bar, wrapper intact, and ripped it open. He tore it in two and handed one half to Ian.

            Ian munched on the chocolate as he went back to sorting. It took a little over half an hour to look through all the candy and, when they were done, Ian sat back with a sigh. _“Carl’s gonna kill me when he sees how little of this he’s allowed to eat.”_

            Mickey shrugged. _“Not your fault.”_

            Snorting, Ian said _, “I saw you sneaking candy.”_

            He smiled _. “Sorry.”_

_“No, you’re not.”_

            Mickey closed the space between them and kissed Ian. Ian smiled beneath his lips and shifted closer to him on the couch, his leg wrapping over top of Mickey’s as the kiss deepened. Mickey bent down over him, pushing him back down onto the couch, keeping his body a careful distance from Ian’s. He kissed him deeply, but in short bursts, as if sleep deprivation was making it hard for him to catch his breath.

            Ian reached his hands under Mickey’s shirt, his fingers running slowly over Mickey’s skin. He felt the strong muscles in his back tensing and relaxing, the sharp bones of his hips poking out, and his smooth stomach. Ian moved his lips cautiously, as if afraid to let Mickey get closer to him.

            _“You should go,”_ Ian signed when Mickey pulled back to breathe.

            He raised an eyebrow. _“You were serious about that?”_ he asked.

            Ian sat up, forcing Mickey back onto his heels and inadvertently closing the space between them. His breath caught at the look in Mickey’s eyes and he almost flopped right back down. Licking his lips, he scooted back slightly, leaving his legs tangled in Mickey’s. His lips felt raw from the kissing and his hands were warm from Mickey’s skin.

            _“Yeah,”_ Ian signed, unsure even as he said it. Mickey gave him a look. _“I’m sure.”_

            Mickey exhaled deeply. _“Okay. You free tomorrow?”_

_“Tomorrow?”_

            He nodded and closed the space between them with a teasing kiss. His hand crept down across Ian’s crotch, causing Ian to gasp into his mouth. He pulled back and moved his hand to reply, _“I’m getting in every one of these three dates this weekend.”_

            Ian laughed _. “No, you’re not.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“It’s cheating.”_

_“Still three dates.”_

_“Cheating.”_

            Mickey kissed him again. His lips felt tired, forming the kiss slowly, and he licked his lips before completely pulling away. Ian shivered, looking up at him with lidded eyes. “ _Dinner. Tomorrow,”_ Mickey signed.

            Ian nodded.

            _“I should go,”_ Mickey said.

            _“You should go,”_ Ian agreed, then he reached forward and pulled Mickey’s lips down to his, dragging the other boy on top of him once again. Their kisses were tired and sloppy, moving gracelessly from lips to necks to cheeks to hairlines and shirt collars.

            With a small sigh, Mickey nuzzled his head into Ian’s neck and kissed his shoulder briefly. Then he pulled back and stood up. His blue eyes glanced over Ian as he lay there, half his chest exposed, his green-blue eyes staring back at Mickey.

            _“Tomorrow.”_

_“Tomorrow,”_ Ian agreed.

            And Mickey slowly backed away to the door, Ian’s eyes following him the whole way.


	47. Chapter 47

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Ian undid his tie for the third time, breathing deeply to stop himself from getting annoyed at the stupid fucking piece of fabric. He sighed and hung the two ends loose across the front of his green button up shirt and tried to remember for the zillionth time why on earth he had been excited when Mickey had said they were going somewhere nice.

            There was a knock on the door and Ian said, “Come in,” dejectedly as he began his fight with the tie again.

            Lip poked his head in and walked into the bathroom, a lit cigarette in his hand. “Look nice,” he said, blowing smoke up towards the vent in the ceiling.

            “Since when do you knock?”

            “Wanted to make sure you weren’t rubbing one out before your date.”

            “Fuck off.”

            Lip laughed and settled on the edge of the bathtub, watching as Ian once again screwed up his tie. “You’ve been fucking this guy for weeks,” he said. “Why are you suddenly all nervous to see him?”

            “It’s complicated.”

            “You say that again and I’m gonna start picturing you as a preteen girl with a Facebook account,” Lip replied. Then he held up his hands in mock surrender as Ian glared at him. “I know, fuck off.” He offered Ian the cigarette.

            Abandoning the tie for a minute, Ian took a drag and held the smoke in his mouth for a long moment before letting it out. He tried to let the nicotine steady him but gave it up as a lost cause after only the second drag and handed the cigarette back to Lip. Turning back to the mirror, he straightened the tie against his shirt and crossed one side over the other.

            “You’re doing it wrong,” Lip said.

            Ian gave him a look.

            “You have to-” Lip cut himself off with a sigh and got to his feet. Snubbing the cigarette out against the sink, he slipped the tie from around Ian’s neck and put it on his own. While tying it up, he asked, “You sure about this whole Mickey thing?”

            “What do you mean?”

            “I mean, you know, that it’s not gonna end terribly.”

            “You talk to Mandy too much.”

            “Thought you’d like that better than me fucking her all the time,” Lip quipped. He finished tying the tie and transferred it from his neck to Ian’s. Then he tightened it and folded down the collar of Ian’s shirt.

            “I’m sure,” Ian said. “You don’t know him. You don’t know how he looks at me. He’s not going to-”

            “I’m not worried about you,” he cut in. Stepping back, he lit another cigarette and blew the smoke into the air. “I’m not particularly worried about him either, but I know you. And broken hearted or over the moon, you always bounce back.”

            “Then what?” Ian asked, turning back to the mirror to stare at his outfit. The shirt brought out the green in his eyes and the pants, while not his, didn’t fit terribly. The tie was black and straight and narrow and made him look a little like a waiter, but it was too late to change it.

            As Ian was patting down his hair, Lip said, “You jump into relationships fast and fall in love faster and then realize that you had no clue what the fuck you were getting into. And you just leave. And-”

            “And you’re worried about me screwing up your relationship with Mandy?” Ian asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice. He tilted his head to give Lip a look and added, “Between the two of us, I’m the one with the better track record.”

            “Not by much.”

            “I’ll be nice to Mickey.” Ian rolled his eyes and headed for the bathroom door.

            He was almost out when Lip said, “Have fun on your date tonight.”

            “Thanks.”

            Ian headed downstairs and waited by the front door, pacing back and forth as Fiona called everyone to dinner. He checked the time on his phone and quickly reread the texts from Mickey. Mysterious and vague. Just telling him to dress up real nice. He took a deep breath and stopped himself from moving, not wanting to sweat through his shirt before Mickey arrived.

            He stared at the clock on his phone as the minutes changed from 7:58 to 7:59 to 8:00. Then he looked up at the door as if Mickey was going to arrive right at the strike of eight, like he was somehow connected to the clock on Ian’s phone. As it turned from 8:00 to 8:01, he gave up and sat down on the couch in the living room.

            A couple minutes later, the doorbell rang and Ian answered, momentarily stunned by Mickey. He stood on the front porch, adjusting the cuffs on his dark brown button-up shirt, and it took him a moment to look up at Ian. He smiled as he did, looking appreciatively at Ian’s ensemble before settling on his greener-than-normal eyes.

            _“You ready?”_ Mickey signed.

            _“Course,”_ Ian replied. _“You’re late.”_

            Mickey snorted. _“By like four minutes.”_

_“Still.”_

_“You’re such a girl.”_

            Ian made a move for Mickey, who stepped back with a smile before turning to walk to his car. Closing the door, Ian followed behind slowly, appreciating the view from behind. Mickey opened the passenger door, giving Ian a pointed look, and then slammed it after him before getting in on the driver’s side.

            Once again, they drove together in silence until Mickey pulled up in front of the Trump Hotel. Ian whistled as they pulled up in front of the huge glass tower. A valet opened his door, greeted him, and then took the keys from Mickey as they passed in through the front doors. He hid his disgust at the state of the car well.

            Mickey walked confidently to the elevators, as if he had been there a thousand times before. Ian followed, walking so slowly that Mickey had to reach back and take his hand so he didn’t leave him behind. They walked into the elevators and Mickey pressed the button for the sixteenth floor.

            They rode up in silence and, when they got to the restaurant, Ian gave Mickey’s name to the hostess. She smiled, greeted them like they weren’t two poor college kids from the Southside, and led them to a table in the middle of the dining room. She set the menus at the chairs perpendicular to each other, told them their server’s name, and left.

            Ian signed, _“Fancy place.”_ He swung his arm over the back of the curved white chair. Shadows flickered across the white tablecloth from the candlelight in the wall sconces. The wall they faced was floor to ceiling windows, looking out on the towers of the city, lit up against the night.

            _“Should’ve checked the menu first though,”_ Mickey replied.

            _“Little expensive.”_

_“Not worried about that. Look at the dishes.”_

            Ian looked down at his menu and raised his eyebrows at the dish titles. Without reading the description underneath, he would have had no idea what he was eating. The two of them ordered and made small talk while playing footsie under the table before the food came. They quieted as they dug in, their hands tied up in eating instead of signing.

            Finishing off the last bites of his salmon, Ian looked up to see Mickey’s face smeared with sauce. He bit back a laugh and signed, _“You’re a mess.”_

            Mickey stuck out his tongue and licked at the sauce, missing most of it. Ian, laughing, reached forward to brush the sauce from his chin, but Mickey opened his mouth at the last second and sucked on Ian’s fingers for a long moment. Pulling back, he ran his tongue along the length of the finger and then licked the last of the sauce from his face.

            Ian stared at him. _“You did that on purpose.”_

            Smirking, Mickey dropped his napkin onto his plate, and said, _“Ready to go?”_

            Ian blinked. _“We have to pay.”_

            _“You think I have the money for this?”_

_“Mick-”_

_“What, Gallagher?”_ Mickey gave him a look, his blue eyes sparkling in the candlelight. _“You never dined and dashed before?”_

            Staring at him, Ian asked _, “What the hell is your plan? Run out of a restaurant on the sixteenth floor of a hotel, go down in the elevator, and then ask kindly for your keys from the valet?”_

_“’Course not.”_

_“We could go to jail.”_

_“No one’s ever gone to jail for dining and dashing.”_

_“I have,”_ Ian signed angrily. He looked around the restaurant, as if he thought everyone understood what they were saying. Swallowing hard, he looked back at Mickey and added _, “And I doubt Donald Trump is the type of guy to let us off with a warning because we’re two good kids without records.”_

_“Especially since we’re not two good kids without records.”_

_“You have a record?”_

_“You wanna sit here and bitch about this or you wanna go?”_ Mickey asked, getting to his feet, a clear challenge in his eyes.

            Ian stared at him, feeling frozen to the spot _. “I wanna talk about this.”_

_“Too bad. We have to move.”_

            Mickey started walking towards the exit and Ian, after a momentary lapse in the knowledge of his own existence, started after him. Mickey signed, _“Slow,_ ” then reached back and took Ian’s hand in his. He kissed Ian’s knuckles as they passed a waiter and then smiled at a waitress as she left the restaurant’s computer.

            Letting go of Ian’s hand, Mickey said, _“Keep watch.”_

_“Keep-”_ Ian cut himself off as he realized Mickey was focussed on the computer. Pursing his lips, he turned towards the restaurant, looking around for anyone who might notice what Mickey was doing. Although what, exactly, the hell Mickey was doing was incredibly unclear.

            A couple minutes later he tapped Ian on the shoulder, grabbed his hand again, and pulled him towards the door. He waved at the hostess, smiling brightly, and got onto the elevator. The tinny elevator music assaulted Ian’s eardrums as he stared at Mickey. After a moment, Mickey looked at him, one eyebrow cocked, as if to ask, _what?_

            _“The hell did you do back there?”_ Ian signed.

            _“Changed their records. Says we paid.”_

_“That works?”_

            Mickey shrugged. _“Until they check their actual earnings, yeah.”_

_“So how long?”_

_“Few hours.”_

_“Dammit, Mickey-”_

_“Calm the fuck down.”_

            Ian took a deep breath and turned away from Mickey, his heart pounding in his chest. He could hear Fiona yelling at him, wondering what the hell he was doing dining and dashing from the fucking Trump Hotel. The elevator dinged at the main floor and Mickey reached for his hand, but he pulled it out of the way.

            _“Act cool,”_ Mickey signed, exasperated.

            _“I’m acting like you’re a fucking terrible date.”_

            Swallowing a smirk, Mickey shrugged and gestured for Ian to exit the elevator first. Ian walked ahead of Mickey, pausing only when he got to the valet station without the ticket. Mickey handed it over, then looked at Ian in askance, waiting patiently for Ian to look at him.

            But Ian didn’t look at him. Not when the valet came back with the car. Not when Mickey opened the car door for him. Not when Mickey put the car in gear and sent it sputtering out onto the road.

            The stolen salmon churned in his stomach and he thought he might be sick. He turned up the radio in Mickey’s car and wasn’t surprised to find it blaring static. After a few blocks, he signed, _“Pull over.”_ Mickey glanced over at the motion and Ian repeated his words.

            The car slowed and pulled over to the side of the busy road. Ian undid his seatbelt and hopped out of the car. He gasped in the crisp night air. He left the door open, swinging awkwardly against the concrete, and turned back to Mickey, who was sitting in the car, watching him curiously.

            _“What the fuck?”_ Ian signed _. “What the goddamn fucking hell, Mickey!”_

_“Calm down.”_

_“You’ve got a record!”_

_“You think I went to some fancy fucking tattoo parlor and got these?”_ Mickey held his hands spread, palms facing inwards, to let Ian see his tattoos. The ink was dark and the letters shaky –definitely a prison signature.

            Ian took a deep breath _. “You went to jail?”_

_“Juvie.”_

“Fuck,” Ian breathed out. He started walking down the street but the car huffed after him only a moment later, the engine clunking as unevenly as the beating of his heart. _“Leave me alone, Mick,”_ he signed.

            _“How the hell are you gonna get home from here?”_ Mickey replied, moving the car so slowly he could steer with his knees.

            _“The L.”_

            Mickey sighed. _“That’s fucking ridiculous.”_

_“So are you. So is this. So is this entire fucking relationship!”_

            Mickey stared at him for a long moment, his blue eyes darkening. Ian stared back at him, wanting to get away, but not wanting to miss whatever Mickey might say. Despite Mickey’s betrayal, despite his own panic, Ian still wanted any reason not to walk away from Mickey. Any reason at all.

            _“So that’s it? No third date because of one small crime?”_

_“It’s the Trump fucking Tower, Mick!”_

_“You’re scared of that toupeed asshole?”_

            Ian sighed and looked away, picking up his pace. He heard Mickey press the gas pedal behind him, then the engine coughed, and died altogether. Turning around, he saw Mickey struggling with the ignition for a moment before giving up and getting out of the car. He slammed the door so hard that the entire frame shook and then stalked up to Ian.

            _“I told you to get it checked,”_ Ian signed.

            _“Fuck you.”_

            Ian didn’t reply, just stopped walking to stare at Mickey.

            Mickey licked his lips and then spat on the ground. _“This is exactly why I didn’t want to go out with you. With anyone. People are fine fucking a violent criminal, but actually date them? No fucking way.”_

_“Violent?”_

            Rolling his eyes, Mickey let out a controlled sigh. He glared at Ian in the darkness and then signed _, “At least let me use your phone to call for a tow?”_

            Ian snorted _. “A tow’ll cost more than that piece of junk’s worth.”_

            Mickey glanced back at the car and then shoved his hands in his pockets. He looked back at Ian in the silence of the night, cars and lights racing past them.

            For a few minutes, Ian just stood there, frozen again. He had no idea what to say to the guy in front of him. He’d known him two months, just two months, and was starting to realize that he had no idea who he was at all. Maybe Mandy had been right. Maybe he did fall in love too easily.

            _“Come on,”_ Ian signed and he stepped backwards in the direction of the nearest station for the L.

            Mickey stepped forward, saying, _“You can ask me anything you want, you know. About my record. Or anything.”_

            Pausing again, Ian asked, _“Ever kill anyone?”_

            Rolling his eyes, he signed, _“Wanna be fucking serious?”_

            Ian thought for a moment, looking for the right question, and then asked, _“Did you really blackmail the Dean of Admissions into letting you in?”_

            He shrugged. _“What his wife doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”_

_“You slept with the Dean of Admissions?”_

            He shrugged again.

            Ian shook his head, a disbelieving laugh shuddering through him as Mickey smiled, laughter threatening to overtake him too. Turning, Ian started towards the L and Mickey fell into step beside him. Ian kept asking questions until Mickey took over, telling the whole story all on his own, and by the time they reached the train, their hands were intertwined again.


	48. Chapter 48

“Hey, where you going?” Fiona asked.

            Ian glanced towards the stairs as he swallowed his pills. He said, “Gotta get to Sheila’s before my shift.”

            “Got in late last night.” She walked towards the coffee machine and flipped the filter over before turning it on.

            “Mick’s car broke down.”

            “And you’re up early.”

            “I just took my meds. You saw me,” Ian replied, pausing on his way to the door. He pulled on his coat and looked at his sister, faking a yawn just to reassure her. “I need to talk to Sheila before I go to work so I set my alarm early and Carl threw a pillow at me.”

            Fiona snorted. “At least have breakfast before you go.”

            “I don’t have time.”

            “I can talk to Sheila,” she said, kicking out one of the stools at the counter before leaning over to turn on the stove. She turned towards the cabinets, searching for a frying pan, and asked, “What do you need to talk to her about?”

            Ian hesitated before shrugging off his jacket. “Debbie says she’s ruining her life.”

            “How so?”

            Shrugging, Ian sat down at the stool and explained, “Apparently there’s this boy at school named Derek that she’s been flirting with via text, but when she tries to talk to him at school, Sheila edits whatever she’s saying.”

            Placing a pan on the stove, Fiona said, “Not sure I’m against that. What’s she saying that’s so bad?”

            “She claims it’s just innocent flirting.”

            Fiona shook her head and cracked an egg over the pan, then another. “All right, well, I’ll see what Sheila says.” She went to the sink to wash yoke off her hands and asked, “How was your date last night?”

            Ian shrugged.

            “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            “It was... fine. Weird. I don’t know.”

            Fiona stared at him for a long moment. “What happened?”

            Sighing, he said, “I just don’t know Mick as well as I thought I did and... we worked most of it out, I guess, but when I woke up this morning it just didn’t feel as worked out as it did last night.”

            She raised an eyebrow. “You get distracted?”

            “Shut up.”

            Smiling, she cut the yokes of the eggs in half with a spatula and licked her lips. Ian could tell she was hesitating over her next words, unsure of how to bring it up. “Speaking of Mickey,” she said slowly. “Umm...” She looked back up, her mouth thinning and twisting as she bit down on the next words. “Some of the neighbours have been talking.”

            “Talking?”

            “They’re jerks and you shouldn’t listen to ‘em, but in our neighbourhood going around holding hands with your boyfriend... it’s not-”

            “Smart,” Ian finished, his heart sinking.

            Hurt lanced through Fiona’s eyes and she grabbed his hand across the counter, squeezing tight. “Hey, they’re assholes. You should be able to love whoever the fuck you wanna love and screw the people who don’t want you to. But there’s been some nasty things said and-”

            “Like what?”

            She shook her head, took back her hand, and looked down at the eggs. She pulled a plate from the nearest cabinet and scooped the eggs onto it. Letting the plate fall in front of Ian, she said nothing until he repeated his question.

            “It’s not important,” she replied, looking up with tired eyes. “What’s important is you know that I love you and support you and I’m only telling you any of this because I don’t want you getting hurt.”

            Ian licked his lips. “I know. It was... stupid to go out like that.”

            “No, it wasn’t.”

            “I thought...” He stabbed at his eggs. “I thought people were cool with it. A lot of them seemed to be.”

            “And a lot of them were,” Fiona insisted. She turned off the burner and moved the pan to another one. “It’s just, some of ‘em weren’t. And them being quiet twice in a row isn’t really a bet with good odds. You get that?”

            Ian was silent for a moment as he scooped up both fried eggs and put them between two slices of bread. Taking the sandwich in his hand, he stood up from the stool and said, “Yeah, I get that. I have to go. Thanks for breakfast.”

            Fiona nodded and Ian turned. She said, “Hey,” and then came up to wrap him in a hug at the last minute. Kissing his cheek, she said, “You know I don’t feel that way, right? I want you to be happy. No matter what.”

            He forced a smile. “I know, Fi.”

            “Have a good day at work,” she said and he smiled, taking a step out the door. “And good luck with Mickey!”

            Ian waved and turned down the street, taking a bite out of his sandwich. Hurt curled in the pit of his stomach, but his cheeks blushed red as he walked towards the diner. If their first date had been a bad idea, and the second had been awful, he had no idea how terribly he had to expect their third date to go.

            As he walked, he ignored yet another text from Mickey asking when that date would be.


	49. Chapter 49

_“So are we doing this or not?”_ Mickey signed when class finished.

            Ian looked away, gathering his books as an excuse to think about his answer. Mickey had stopped asking and just made a time and place for their third date. That time and place being now and his living room couch.

            When he looked back up, Mickey asked, _“You still pissed about the dine and dash?”_

_“No.”_

_“Then what’s the problem?”_

            Licking his lips, Ian shrugged. “ _No problem.”_

_“Then you’re coming home with me?”_

_“Yeah,”_ Ian replied, swallowing his hesitation. And that one word, no matter how unsure he was about it, was worth it because of the smile that lit up Mickey’s face.

            The two of them walked to his car and drove back to the apartment, chatting aimlessly on the way up the stairs. Mickey pushed the metal door to the side and flicked on the lights, which came to life with an uneasy buzz.

            _“Wanna beer?”_ he asked. Ian shook his head and Mickey added _, “Popcorn?”_

_“Sure.”_

            Ian sat down on one of the stools at the counter and watched as Mickey ripped open a popcorn package and put it in the microwave. Then he got out a beer and filled a glass of water for Ian, sliding it over the counter.

            _“You got a big sob story for why you don’t drink?”_

            Ian shrugged _. “Something like that.”_

_“You wanna tell me?”_ Mickey asked. He popped the top off the beer bottle. A second later, the popcorn went off in the microwave, and Ian flinched.

            He met Mickey’s curious eyes and countered with a question of his own. _“You wanna tell me why you were in jail?”_

_“Assaulting an officer.”_

_“Assaulting a...”_ Ian paused, folding his hands into fists. He took a sip of water and tried to calm himself down. He asked _, “Why the fuck did you do that?”_

_“He hit me first.”_

_“For what?”_

_“Resisting arrest.”_

            Ian waited impatiently.

            _“Iggy and I were selling coke in an abandoned bakery,”_ Mickey replied. _“Trespassing was the official charge.”_

            Ian shook his head and gestured to the microwave as it finished. Mickey turned, poured the popcorn into a bowl, and then headed towards the couch. Ian followed, flopping down on the far end as Mickey placed the bowl of popcorn between them. He grabbed the remote and turned the TV on, the movie already queued up to go.

            The movie started strong, with a shirtless guy doing pull-ups, and quickly moved to badly timed explosions. About half an hour in, Ian turned his head towards Mickey and signed, _“This is shit.”_

            Mickey blinked innocently _. “Something else you’d rather be doin’, Gallagher?”_

            A smile spread across Ian’s lips, but he shook his head, never taking his eyes off of Mickey. Mickey leaned over the half empty popcorn bowl and pressed his lips to Ian’s, lingering for a long moment before pulling back.

            _“You have to finish the date for it to count,”_ Ian said.

            Mickey licked his bottom lip. _“This is how the date finishes.”_

            When Mickey leaned back in, Ian couldn’t help but reach forward to close the space between them. He shifted forward and the popcorn bowl slanted precariously between them. Mickey pushed it off the couch, kernels scattering everywhere, and hooked a leg over one of Ian’s.

            _“Move this to the bedroom?”_ Mickey asked, pulling back.

            The heat from Mickey already getting to him, Ian nodded and got to his feet, walking with Mickey towards his room. Mickey paused to close the door behind them as Ian sat on the bed and, when he looked back, Ian asked _, “How long were you in juvie?”_

            Mickey shrugged. _“Less than a year. Overcrowding.”_

            He stepped forward, spreading Ian’s legs apart to stand between them. He leaned down and kissed him softly. Once, twice, before trailing his lips down Ian’s neck and then pushing him back down onto the bed. He crawled on top of him and paused only when Ian signed again.

            _“It bad in there?”_

_“Not great.”_

_“But you were okay?”_

            Mickey nodded and leaned down to kiss Ian again. Their lips lingered together, moving slowly, and Ian rolled so that Mickey fell down beside him on the bed. He tangled their legs together but pulled his lips away. He asked, _“You dine and dash a lot?”_

_“Only way to eat.”_

_“And selling drugs?”_

_“Stopped a while ago.”_

            Ian kissed Mickey again, bringing his hand around to hold the back of Mickey’s neck. Mickey bit his bottom lip, then kissed the line of his jaw before pulling back himself. _“You know, I didn’t do that shit because I wanted to. I had to.”_

            Ian raised an eyebrow.

            Sighing, Mickey rolled away and sat up on the bed. Ian rose slowly to watch his hands as he said, _“My dad barely worked and barely let my mom work. The little money we had went towards booze and crack. So if we wanted to eat, we had to get creative.”_

            Ian was silent, not able to find the words to reply. Mickey stretched his leg forward and pulled Ian closer on the bed. His blue eyes still looked down as he signed, _“My mom never got enough to eat. She gave everything she could to us. Or she did until my dad realized that that’s why I was deaf.”_

            Reaching out, Ian traced lines down Mickey’s thigh. He asked, _“Where’s your mom now?”_

_“Dead.”_

_“Sorry.”_

            Mickey shook his head _. “She taught me to sign, you know? My dad could never be bothered to learn it, my oldest brothers neither. Iggy understands it, but can’t really bring himself to speak it._

_“My dad had this thing where he thought that, if he just yelled loud enough, I’d hear him. So any time he saw anyone signing he’d beat ‘em bad. But my mom never spoke to me any other way and Mandy was always good with it as long as dad wasn’t around but... it was hard after my mom passed. She was the only one that really cared at all.”_

            Ian swallowed _. “I care.”_

            Mickey smiled and leaned forward to kiss him. He pulled his lips back, their foreheads knocking together. He started to sign, then pulled back so Ian could see him better. _“That’s why I’m so good at reading lips. Or it seems like I am, anyways. I had to be able to bullshit words just to survive in that house. So even if I don’t get everything or see somethin’ out of the corner of my eye, I force myself to figure it out.”_

            Ian stared at him for a moment before nodding. _“I was scared when I found out you had a record,”_ he admitted.   _“But only because I didn’t wanna think of you in jail. God, I don’t... I don’t ever wanna have to worry about you behind bars. And it scared the shit out of me. Not because I was scared of you, but because I was scared_ for _you.”_

            _“I’m not going back there,”_ Mickey replied.

            _“Promise?”_

            He nodded.

            Ian kissed him again, letting his tongue slide into Mickey’s mouth. The rough edges of Mickey’s teeth bit against him until Mickey relaxed and kissed back, rolling them both sideways onto the bed. Ian pulled up the hem of Mickey’s shirt and Mickey rose off the bed just enough to help him get it off. He rolled over top of Ian and ran his fingers across the smooth skin of Ian’s chest.

            Pushing up into a sitting position, Ian pulled off his own shirt, then lowered Mickey back down on top of him. He dug his nails into Mickey’s back, relishing the feeling of him gasping against his lips, then rolled Mickey back onto his side. He slowed the kissing and pulled back, waiting for Mickey to open his eyes.

            _“You know, my mom abandoned me.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Yeah. About four years ago, just after Liam’s first birthday. She took off in the middle of the night. Completely devastated my dad. Only time in my life I think I ever felt bad for him was when he came running downstairs that morning, terrified because he couldn’t find her.”_

_“That must’ve been scary.”_

            Ian laughed bitterly. _“It wasn’t. That’s the thing. That’s the worst thing. It was the morning of the first day without her, and the only person that cared was Frank, because she did it all the time. She left for days or weeks or months. And she’d come back with a new boyfriend or a puppy or a tattoo and none of us were worried at all for weeks.”_

_“She sick?”_

            He hesitated a moment and then nodded.

            Mickey closed the space between them, their lips whispering together, but didn’t kiss him. He stroked his hand down the side of Ian’s neck, his breath hot against Ian’s skin. Ian closed his eyes, safe for a moment inside Mickey’s warmth and then tilted his chin to kiss him.

            Pulling out of the kiss, Mickey asked, _“You wanna hear something funny?”_

_“Sure.”_

_“When I was five, I was the first kid to ever be banned from joining a T-ball league.”_

            Ian laughed, a smile burning across his face. _“Why?”_

_“Because of my brothers. Collectively, they’d spat in the coach’s face, sworn at other kids ‘til they cried, thrown bats, hit other kids with bats, gotten into a fist fight with one of the parents-”_

_“With one of the parents?”_

            Mickey shrugged. _“You should see Iggy throw a punch.”_

            Ian laughed, rolling back to face the ceiling. He tilted his head towards Mickey, who was staring at him unabashedly, his eyes glittering in the light. _“I wish I could hear you laugh,”_ he signed.

            Smiling, Ian took Mickey’s hand and placed it at the base of his throat. Then he licked his lips and left out his wildest laugh, letting it bounce off the walls of the small room until Mickey laughed too. He removed his hand and said, _“I can’t even hear you and I know you were faking it.”_

_“I’m always faking it.”_

            Mickey smirked and kissed him, hard. Ian rolled over top of him, smiling against Mickey’s lips, and dissolved into laughter a second later as he came down on Mickey’s other side. He glanced over at Mickey, their noses touching, and saw his own smile echoed there.

            They spent the vast majority of the night like that. Kissing and talking. Stories from their childhood were told and repeated until Ian knew the exact conversation that Mickey had had with his mother when he came out to her when he was twelve. And Mickey knew exactly how every member of Ian’s family had reacted when finding out that Debbie was deaf, from Fiona’s dejected sigh to Lip’s confusion as to how that had even happened, and how  the discovery of the prescription drugs Monica had been abusing had unravelled.

            Mickey told Ian every prison story he could think of, leaving out most of the details. Ian spoke of his time in ROTC, even though Mickey looked at him like he was an idiot for ever wanting to join the army. Then he turned stories of legal guns into stories of illegal guns and the cabinet in his living room filled to the brim with firearms.

            As Ian spoke of why he was interested in his major, Mickey slowly removed both their pants, shifting closer on the bed, their bare legs touching in the darkness. Mickey admitted that he was only in school to take care of Mandy and when Ian asked him about math, he just laughed, claiming to hate the subject with a passion.

            The conversation rolled down to almost nothing, small words being signed almost indistinguishably between tired kisses. Mickey ran his hand down the length of Ian’s chest. His hand dipped below the hem of Ian’s boxers and wrapped around his dick, just as Ian started to sign something. He got out _, “About the running away thing,”_ before dropping his hands and looking up into Mickey’s eyes. He smiled slightly around the own heaviness in his heart as the conversations of Mickey’s problems and his problems and his mom’s problems swirled in his mind _. “How am I supposed to talk while you’re doing that?”_ he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

            Mickey rubbed slowly up and down the length of his dick with one hand and spelled out, _“I’m sorry,”_ with the other.

            _“You’re not,”_ Ian replied.

            Shifting closer, Mickey kissed him, the smile on his lips transferring to Ian’s as he rubbed harder, Ian getting hard in his hand. His lips left Ian’s and trailed kisses down the side of his neck. His hand slipped off Ian’s cock and moved around his waist to grab his ass, pulling him closer as his lips worked around to the back of his neck.

            He turned Ian over and kissed down the length of his spine, sending shivers through Ian’s body. Mickey smiled against his skin, moving down slower with each kiss before slipping off Ian’s boxers, running his hands down from his ass to the crook of his knees.

            Mickey’s lips touched the top of his ass, kissing down the edge of Ian’s left ass cheek slowly. Ian breathed out at the tingle on his skin as Mickey worked his way back up and down the other side, kneading the outer edges of his ass with his fists.

            Then Mickey licked the edge of his butt crack, moving his tongue in circles along the very edge. A groan shuddered through Ian’s body. Mickey kissed slowly a few more times before rolling Ian onto his back and licking up the length of Ian’s cock.

            He wrapped his mouth around the tip, sucking slowly on Ian’s erection. Flickering his tongue, he moved up the length of Ian’s dick, coming back down every few inches before going up just a little more. He wrapped his hand around the base of Ian’s cock and dug in his fingernails, causing Ian to groan at the pain.

            Mickey’s fingers traced curlicues on the insides of Ian’s thighs as he worked, moving in a slow rhythm with his mouth. He got all nine inches in his mouth without even flinching, sucking hard as Ian writhed, his hands pulling at Mickey’s hair as his body lit up like a live wire.

            Reaching up, Mickey grabbed Ian’s ass in his hands and moved up and down quickly, wrapping his tongue around the length of his cock. Ian groaned loudly, unable to stop himself as his fingers slipped from Mickey’s hair. He came fast, breathing heavily, and Mickey’s mouth slipped away from  him.

            Mickey spit off the side of his bed and then crawled over Ian so they were face to face. He could feel Mickey hard against his thigh. Ian signed, _“I swallowed.”_

_“You need to eat some pineapple or something,”_ Mickey countered _. “That shit’s nasty.”_

            Ian laughed _. “Sorry. Pulled it from my diet when I got tired of waiting for you to do that.”_ He paused for a second and then asked, _“How did you do that?”_

_“No gag reflex.”_

_“Missed your true calling.”_

            Mickey smirked. _“Thought you wanted me to stay out of jail.”_ Mickey leaned down and kissed him softly. Then he pulled back to sign, _“You were gonna say something before I got distracted? About running away?”_

_“Not important,”_ he replied, trying to hold on to the blissful joy of the moment.

            He arched his back and kissed Mickey before rolling him over onto the bed.


	50. Chapter 50

Mandy rubbed furiously at a sheet of paper with the nub of a pink eraser. The paper was worn and ready to rip, but she turned the eraser easily to avoid doing so. Like she was used to crappy paper that tried to tear itself apart under her fury.

            Ian glanced over at her, missing a thousand notes from the lecture all at once, and asked, “What’re you doing?”

            She grunted, brushing the eraser shavings off of the faded ink of the paper. She picked her pencil up again and said, “A feminist survey for Women’s Studies.”

            “You’re changing your answers?”

            “Yup.”

            “Why?”

            “Because it says I’m a ‘bad feminist’ or whatever,” she snapped, filling in a different bubble this time on each question. “So if I’m such a bad feminist, I’ll just be a bad student too and lie on every damned question.” She was silent for a second and then she said, “How can I be a bad feminist anyways? I believe in equality of the sexes. More than equality. Women should be ruling you idiots. So I’ve made some terrible ass decisions in my life. But the fact that a man has hit me shouldn’t make me a bad person. It makes him an asshole.”

            “It asks that?”

            She tapped the quiz with her pencil. “Question seven. Then a bunch of other shit about how you ‘let’ men treat you and how you ‘act’ towards other girls. I hate other girls. Other girls are ditzy bitches who’ll do anything to get a guy to fuck them. Doesn’t mean I don’t want them to be empowered just because I hate their fucking guts.”

            Ian stared at the quiz for a moment and then said, “Maybe that’s the point.”

            “What?” she asked, looking up.

            “The point is that the quiz is a piece of shit. It shouldn’t be about being a good or a bad feminist. It’s just about believing in the equality of the sexes.”

            “So, what? You want me to not do this in protest or something?”

            He shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

            “It’s worth ten percent of my grade.”

            “So show the prof you’ve been listening and tell ‘em it’s a piece of shit.”

            Mandy stared at him for a long moment before saying, “For a guy whose dating my brother, you’re actually pretty smart.”

            “Thanks,” Ian replied, giving her a sarcastic smile. His stomach curled at the memory of last night but it still brought heat to his cheeks. He had no doubts about knowing Mickey anymore but he was still holding onto something that shouldn’t need to be a secret. He looked back at Mandy who was writing ‘FUCK YOU’ across the front of the survey. “You should probably be a little more subtle about it.”

            She shot him a glare. “Don’t wanna be.”

            He laughed and looked back up at the front of the class. Realizing the professor was too far ahead for him to catch up, he closed his notebook and told himself he’d read the notes online later. Mandy noticed his closed notebook and said, “Your brother’s taking me stargazing on Friday.”

            “Sounds fun,” Ian said, trying not to sound bitter about it.

            She shrugged. “We were wondering if you and Mick wanted to come?”

            “You didn’t ask him?”

            “He was still asleep when I left this morning,” she replied. Then, seeing the satisfied smile on Ian’s face, shuddered visibly. “Please don’t do that. That’s disgusting.”

            He laughed. “We’ll go.”

            “Yeah, well, just don’t have sex in front of us.”

            “Right back atcha.”

            She stuck her tongue out at him and then tucked the survey inside of her notebook. Kicking her feet up on the chair in front of her, she leaned back into the hard plastic and closed her eyes. Ian watched her, struck for a moment by how similar she looked to her brother when asleep.


	51. Chapter 51

Lip’s definition of “taking” Mandy stargazing really meant that he filled a cooler with beer, stuffed the trunk of his car with lawn chairs and blankets, and then dragged all of that up to the roof of her and Mickey’s apartment. She didn’t seem to mind though, cuddled close to Lip under a blanket as he pointed out constellations.

            Mickey nudged Ian with his elbow. He was halfway through his second beer, sitting about half a foot away. Neither of them were wearing blankets despite the chill. _“Hey,”_ Mickey signed. _“You jealous?”_

            _“Fuck off,”_ Ian replied, rolling his eyes. He glanced at the other two for a moment before looking back at Mickey. _“You’re not worried about them?”_

            He looked towards his sister and shrugged. _“She can take care of herself,”_ he replied, _“and I haven’t seen any bruises yet, so I don’t see a reason to waste time worrying over whether or not he treats her right.”_

_“She deserves better than him.”_

            Mickey shrugged.

            _“That doesn’t bug you at all?”_

_“You deserve better than me. So I’d be a hypocrite if it did.”_

            Ian blinked, all of his focus suddenly on Mickey. He frowned. _“What the fuck do you mean by that?”_ And, when Mickey’s only response was to shrug, he added, _“If anything, you deserve better than me.”_

            Rolling his eyes, Mickey said, _“Yeah. You wanna take me out and hold my hand and look up at the fucking stars. You wanna know about me and you worry about my sister and you have a fucking problem with dining and dashing on the fucking Trumps. You’re awful.”_

            Ian smiled. _“You wanna see me every day and you tell me things you don’t even wanna talk about and you’re sitting here, staring at the fucking stars, just because I asked you to. And you don’t have a problem with dining and dashing on the future president of the United States.”_

_“If that happens, kill me.”_

            Ian laughed.

            _“Dead serious. Find a gun, shoot me in the fucking face.”_

_“How ‘bout we just move to Canada?”_

            Mickey gave him a look _. “Who the fuck wants to live in Canada?”_

            Ian’s smile only grew and he reached over to take Mickey’s hand. Mickey let him, giving him a look like it was against his will, but he tied their fingers together tightly. Ian shifted his chair closer, locking their elbows together on the inside of Mickey’s armrest, and rested his head down on Mickey’s shoulder.

            Once again, he got a look like the whole thing was too gay for Mickey, but then Mickey turned his head and kissed the top of Ian’s head. He rested his head on top of Ian’s, shifting slightly to get high enough to do so, causing Ian to exhale a laugh against his neck.

            Ian took a sip of Mickey’s beer when he offered it, but left it at that. He looked up at the stars and tried to listen to Lip as he listed off the constellations. Ian had never been able to see pictures in the stars. The Big Dipper was clear enough, sure, but when people started talking about Cassiopeia or Orion, he got lost in the mess of stars that didn’t really seem to look like anything at all.

            “And that’s,” Lip said, “Scorpius.”

            _“What are we looking at?”_ Ian signed.

            Mickey pointed towards a cluster of stars in the sky and Ian squinted at them, trying to see whatever picture the stars were supposed to be making. After a moment he gave up and said, _“I don’t see it.”_

_“Me neither,”_ Mickey replied.

            _“Maybe only Scorpios can see it.”_

            Mickey snorted despite the terrible joke and said, _“That explains it.”_

            And then Ian remembered one very crucial piece of information he didn’t know about Mickey. _“When’s your birthday?”_

_“August tenth,”_ he replied. He pulled back a bit to look at Ian and asked, _“Yours?”_

            Ian shrugged, wondering for a moment how he didn’t know that was going to be the response to the question. He hesitated a moment before admitting, _“Don’t know. We celebrate around the end of August.”_

            Raising an eyebrow, Mickey asked, _“You don’t know?”_

            He shrugged again _. “My mom was high on PCP, my dad was god knows where, and Fiona was six. It shouldn’t have been her job to take care of me at all.”_ He glanced into Mickey’s eyes and, seeing the pity there, cracked a joke _, “But if it really is the end of August, it means our zodiac signs are highly incompatible.”_

_“Probably is then,”_ Mickey replied.

            Ian laughed at his seriousness and smiled when Mickey’s brought his knuckles up to his lips to kiss them. They stared back up at the stars, silently making fun of the constellations Lip pointed out, and making new ones by connecting the dots.


	52. Chapter 52

Both Gallaghers slept over that night and Ian woke up to Lip in the kitchen, making coffee. Ian slipped onto a stool and said, “You making breakfast?”

            “Do I look like I can make breakfast?”

            “You’ve watched Fiona do it a hundred times.”

            Lip gave him a look and poured coffee into a mug. He slid it towards his brother, who drank it greedily, before pouring another cup for himself. “You’re not supposed to drink that, you know,” he said.

            “You gave it to me,” Ian countered.

            Shrugging, Lip turned back to the stove and started to turn the knob before Ian said, “They have no food.”

            “Then how am I supposed to make breakfast?”

            “Toast pop tarts.”

            Lip turned from the stove and grabbed the box off the top of the fridge. He took one look at the flavour and said, “Well, I guess I know who bought the food.”

            Ian ignored him and grabbed the box, unwrapping a blueberry pop tart and biting into it. Lip grimaced, but said nothing as he grabbed two more and popped them in the toaster. The door to Mickey’s room opened and he emerged, fully dressed, and walked forward to grab a pop tart. He bit the wrapper to open it and then shoved half of it in his mouth.

            While chewing, he signed, _“Going to work,”_ and started out the door, pausing only momentarily to kiss the top of Ian’s head. Then he slammed the sliding metal door behind him.

            “Great boyfriend you got there,” Lip said.

            “You weren’t gonna make Mandy breakfast either,” Ian reminded him.

            Lip flipped him off just as the toaster sputtered and spit out the pop tarts. He pulled them out and put them on a plate, heading back to Mandy’s bedroom without another word.

            Ian sat in silence at the counter, chewing. Slowly, he moved from the counter and back to Mickey’s room as he heard Mandy start to giggle through the walls. Wishing he could shut off his ears, he pulled yesterday’s clothes back on, sniffing at the t-shirt to make sure it smelled all right. Then he shrugged on a coat and headed out of the apartment.

            The scent of nicotine was heavy in the early morning air. Several people stood by the railings of the metal walkways connecting the apartments, blowing smoke into the air. Ian itched to ask someone if he could bum a cigarette, but he already had caffeine buzzing through his veins.

            He wandered through the cold streets, giving icy glares to anyone who looked at him for too long. He checked his phone and was surprised to find that Fiona hadn’t texted him at all. All the same, he sent her a quick text telling her he was all right and asking her if she needed him home. He got no reply.

            He watched the names of shops as they passed, slowing when he reached a car repair place with the garage door open a tad. The door at the side of the shop was propped open with a pipe and Ian couldn’t help but wonder if this was where Mickey worked. He walked up the side alley and poked his head in the door.

            There was no one around, just several cars with their hoods open and voices coming from the back room. Ian wandered in, despite telling himself several times that it was a terrible idea in this neighbourhood. He stepped towards the nearest car –a cherry red roadster with no tires– and looked in at the engine.

            “The fuck?”

            Ian looked up at the sound of Mickey’s voice, smiling when he saw him walking out of an office, bow-legged, a cigarette hanging half out of his mouth. Mickey’s expression calmed from pissed to slightly annoyed when he saw Ian and he signed, _“What’re you doin’ here?”_

            Ian shrugged and backed out from under the car’s hood. _“Lip and Mandy are having sex.”_

            Mickey made a face. _“Don’t put that image in my head.”_

_“Sorry,”_ Ian replied as he plucked the cigarette from between Mickey’s teeth. He took a long drag, sighing at the relief of nicotine, and then offered it back to Mickey.

            He just gave him a look _. “Never seen you smoke before.”_

_“Never seen you smoke either,”_ Ian replied. He took another drag and then shook the cigarette at Mickey, who took it back. Ian stretched the fingers that had held the cigarette, wincing slightly at the way they twitched and froze when curled. He shook out his hand and sat back against the hood of the car. _“You fixing this?”_

            Mickey shrugged and looked down at his feet.

            Ian watched him for a moment and then looked around the garage, trying to determine exactly why Mickey didn’t want him to be there. The door to the alley banged against the pipe, shifting in the gale force wind. There were four cars in the garage, all in various states of disrepair. From missing tires to missing doors to missing hoods to missing hubcaps.

            A kind of cold different from that outside came over Ian as he looked back at Mickey, who had shifted his ashamed expression to something neutral. _“A chop shop?”_ Ian asked. _“Really?”_

            Mickey rolled his eyes.

            _“You said you weren’t going back to jail.”_

_“Calm the fuck down,”_ Mickey replied, flicking the stub of his cigarette onto the ground. He looked away from Ian as he signed, _“Three big ugly black guys run this joint. Who do you think’s really goin’ to jail if the place goes down?”_

_“Maybe the guy with the record,”_ Ian replied, pushing off of the hood of the car. He glanced back at the engine and, for the first time, noticed several parts were missing from the inside of the car. He swore under his breath before looking back at Mickey and signing, _“I thought you wanted to be done with this stuff. That’s what you told me, at least.”_

_“I do.”_

_“Then why the fuck are you here?”_

_“I got bills to pay.”_

_“Bullshit.”_

            Mickey’s defensiveness turned to anger and he signed, _“I’m sorry that I don’t have the money to take care of tuition and rent and fucking food with the money Mandy gets from her shitty minimum wage coffee shop gig. I don’t have the luxury of goin’ home and not paying to have a place to live. And fucking financial aid only goes so fucking far, Ian. So if you’re gonna shit on my life choices, take a second to consider my other fucking options. Because there aren’t any.”_

            Ian stared at him _. “You’re fucking smart, Mick. I don’t believe you couldn’t get an actual job and-”_

_“Oh, yeah, because people are jumpin’ at the chance to hire the kid with a record.”_

_“Juvie records are sealed.”_

_“These aren’t,”_ Mickey replied, gesturing to his tattoos.

            Ian rolled his eyes. _“Well, maybe if you didn’t have the need to display to everyone that you think you’re useless-”_

_“Fuck off.”_

            Ian pursed his lips, pressing hard enough that pain shot through his teeth. Then he held up his hands in surrender and took a step back. _“Whatever, Mick. Do what you want.”_

            He turned his back before Mickey could reply and exited into the November cold. The fight already seemed stupid to him a block away. He considered turning back to apologize, but found his feet heading in the direction of the apartment. He walked back through the sliding metal door and into Mickey’s room, settling down on the bed that still held the edges of Mickey’s warmth.

            He pulled his homework out of his bag, slipped under the covers, and started reading over his notes for History class. He had nearly failed the midterm a few weeks ago and was determined not to be as behind for the final.

            A few hours later, Mickey came home, crashing through the kitchen. He entered the bedroom to see Ian sitting there and froze in the doorway. Ian looked up at him and they stared at each other for a long moment. Then Ian patted the spot next to him on the bed and Mickey grabbed his History notebook off the desk before flopping down next to Ian.


	53. Chapter 53

“Ian,” Fiona said as she walked into the kitchen from the living room. She dropped her purse on top of a table filled to the brim with overdue bills and walked over to the counter. “Haven’t seen you in over a week.”

            Ian snorted. “Don’t exaggerate.”

            “She’s right,” Carl said as he closed the door to the kitchen. “It’s Wednesday and you haven’t been here since last Tuesday.”

            “Which reminds me,” Fiona said. “Sean called to say you’re fired. But I see you’re looking through the classifieds so-”

            “I’m looking for something for Mickey,” Ian replied.

            “Doesn’t he work at a garage?”

            “Long story.”

            Fiona shrugged and turned to the fridge to start getting dinner ready. Carl ran into the other room and a second later the TV was blaring at high volume. Ian kept looking through the newspaper, circling interesting postings with a highlighter as he went.

            “Keep in mind you need a job too,” Fiona said as she turned back around.

            “Got another colour highlighter?”

            “I’m surprised you found one at all.”

            “It’s almost out.”

            He kept working, ignoring his sister’s staring until he couldn’t anymore. He looked back up with a sigh and said, “What?”

            “I refilled your medication yesterday. You need it?”

            “Still got lots in my bag.”

            “You staying for dinner?”

            “Sure.”

            Silence fell between them and Ian capped the highlighter as he got to the end of the page. Then he ripped it from the newspaper and folded it into as small of a square as he could manage before stuffing it in his back pocket. He asked, “You know anyone who hires ex-cons?”

            “Other than Sean?” She added, “Wait. For Mickey?”

            Ian shrugged. “Juvie. It’s sealed but he’s got the tattoos, so...”

            Fiona stared at him for a long moment and then bit her lip. She seemed unsure of what to do with her hands, rarely in the kitchen if she wasn’t making food. With a sigh, she asked, “I know you don’t want me worrying about you, but it’s kinda my job. So you mind if I ask whether you know what you’re doing with Mickey or not?”

            “I know what I’m doing.”

            “You sure?”

            “Fiona, your most serious relationship was with a car thief who disappeared without a trace, so I’m not really sure you should be judging my boyfriend based on a few mistakes,” Ian snapped, sliding off of the stool. “You’ve met him.”

            “For ten seconds, Ian,” she said. Ian shook his head and started walking away. “Are you kidding right now? I’m just looking out for you.”

            “Look out for someone else. Debbie or Carl or Liam or anyone under the age of eighteen.”

            “Ian.” The word was a command so he turned around to see her eyes softening. She bit her bottom lip. “I never see you. That’s it. I never see you and I don’t know how you’re doin’ and I’m trying to give you space but it’s killin’ me. Okay?”

            Ian licked his lip and nodded. “I’m happy. We fight, but we fix it.”

            Fiona nodded. “You love him?”

            Ian shrugged.

            “If you’re gonna stay there, at least call me every once in a while?”

            “Sure.”

            He turned and headed out the door, the folded up newspaper still in his back pocket. Fiona’s question rolled around in his head, making him wonder. As he hopped onto the bus, he finally shoved it from his mind, unfolding the potential jobs again just as he remembered that he had told Fiona he would stay for dinner.


	54. Chapter 54

Mickey took Ian’s hunt for a new job for him surprisingly well. He even turned it on its head and started looking for jobs for Ian. The two of them spent the hours after class trading job postings, complaining about each other’s picks, and occasionally picking up a textbook to study from.

            Ian by no means officially lived in their apartment. But slowly the place began to fill with food he liked and his heaviest textbooks had a permanent place on the edge of Mickey’s unused desk. He made breakfast for himself and Mandy most mornings, leaving a plate in the fridge for Mickey whenever he woke up. Mandy had taken to wearing earplugs to sleep whether she was sure Ian was there or not.

            “Safer that way,” she liked to say.

            Ian got a job at the coffee shop with Mandy and the two of them spent shifts quizzing each other on Psychology. They often wrote questions down on the cups, leaving the other to answer them before passing them on to the customer. A couple kids in their Psych class had taken to coming in, simply to correct their answers if they ended up being wrong.

            Mickey kept going to work at the chop shop and Ian alternated between complaining and simply pulling Mickey back into bed in hopes of getting him fired.

            The rest of the week went by in perfect bliss until Ian came home to a darkened apartment in the middle of the day. _The Notebook_ was playing on the TV and Mandy was sobbing in the darkness.

            Ian set his keys down quietly and crept over to the couch. She was wrapped tightly in a blanket, carving a hole in pint of ice cream with her spoon, struggling to get any of it through the thin layer of ice over its chocolate surface. Her mascara was streaked down her face, but she looked like she was done crying, despite the fact that the movie was barely halfway over.

            He sat down beside her and quietly said, “Hey, Mandy.”

            She glanced at him and then snorted, sending snot flying out of her nostrils. She rubbed at her face, but kept her disgusted expression as she said, “Yeah, just sit there and stare at me. Such a cliché teenage girl with her ice cream and her sad movie and her fucking fluffy blankets. Go ahead. Make fun.”

            He was silent for a moment and then asked, “What happened?”

            “What happened?” she snapped. Her eyes flashed in the darkness, alive with anger beneath the few remaining tears. She stabbed at the ice cream violently and shook her head, looking down at the rock hard chocolate. “Your fucking idiot brother happened.”

            Ian tried his best not to sigh. He scooted closer to Mandy and wrapped his arm around her. She didn’t shrug him off, but she didn’t make any sign that the gesture was comforting either. He asked, “What’d he do?”

            She was silent.

            “Mandy?”

            “You’re gonna think I’m an idiot.”

            “I’m gonna think _he’s_ an idiot.”

            Mandy shook her head. “No. No, I let guys treat me like crap and punch me and disfigure me and I stay with them and I don’t... I don’t sit here and watch this shit movie and try to eat stupid fucking ice cream.” With a hard breath, she stabbed at the pint again and then let go of it, sending it rolling onto the floor.

            She looked back at Ian, holding onto her tears. “I shouldn’t be upset.”

            Ian stared at her, unusually calm. He brushed sticky hair off her cheeks and asked again, “What’d he do?”

            “He cheated on me.”

            “He what?”

            “He cheated on me,” she repeated and licked her lips. “Some blonde bitch from his high school that he’s apparently loved since the eleventh fucking grade and hasn’t even mentioned to me once and she’s... she’s the love of his goddamned life for no apparent fucking reason. And better than me. And he loves her and wants to be with her.”

            Ian blinked. “He said that to you.”

            She nodded. “Yup. He said, ‘I’m really sorry Mandy, but I cheated on you last night with my ex and realized I’m fucking in love with her.’” She stared at the ice cream on the floor. “Maybe not in those exact words.”

            Ian swore and squeezed her tight across the shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

            “Don’t fucking be sorry for me,” she snapped and then sniffed.

            “Okay,” he said. “Let’s just watch this shit movie then.”

            Mandy nodded and leaned her head onto his shoulder. A half hour later, Mickey came home and Ian looked up at him, shaking his head. Mickey picked the ice cream up off the ground and sat down on his sister’s other side, easily scooping out some of the now-melted chocolate ice cream.

            Mandy grabbed the pint from him and stuffed her face, staring blankly at the movie screen. She barely even shed a tear at the ending and then simply sunk back into the couch, eating ice cream and staring at the credits.

            Mickey gestured for Ian to come talk to him and then slid off the couch. Ian removed his arm from behind Mandy’s head and she barely flinched. Back in the kitchen, Mickey signed, _“The fuck’s up with her?”_

_“Lip cheated on her.”_

            Mickey’s eyes widened _. “Kidding?”_ And when Ian shook his head, he said, _“I’m gonna fucking kill him.”_

            Ian rolled his eyes. _“She’ll be fine. She’s been through worse.”_

_“He was supposed to be good though.”_

            Ian snorted. _“I said from the start he was gonna be a shit boyfriend.”_

_“Then you should have stopped this.”_

_“I fucking tried.”_

            Mickey sighed and looked towards his sister, who was still staring at the rolling credits. He rubbed a hand across his face and then said, _“He doesn’t get to treat my sister like that. I’m not gonna let him get away with it.”_

_“But you’re not gonna kill him.”_

_“Kill him. Mess him up. Put him in the hospital. All good.”_

_“Mickey.”_

_“What?”_ His blue eyes flashed, an anger worse than Mandy’s pulsing through him. He glared at Ian and said, _“You tellin’ me his safety is more important to you than my little sister crying because he broke her fucking heart? That that asshole is worth more to you than she is?”_

_“That’s not what I said.”_

_“Then get with the program.”_

            Ian bit back a sigh and tried his best not to roll his eyes at his boyfriend. _“Whether or not he was wrong, I’m not gonna let you kill my brother.”_

_“Why the fuck not?”_

_“For one, it’s illegal.”_

            Mickey rolled his eyes.

            _“For another, he doesn’t deserve to die for cheating on her.”_

            Mickey raised an eyebrow and exhaled the bitter edge of a laugh. Licking his bottom lip, he signed, _“You’re gonna tell me what I can and can’t do to protect my sister? Because if I tell you that someone who hurts her deserves to be in the fucking ground, I expect you to get on board.”_

            Annoyance flickered in Ian _. “Oh, and Lip’s the boyfriend that you think deserves to be in the fucking ground?”_

_“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”_

            Ian sighed and turned slightly away from Mickey, shaking out his hands. He forced himself to take a deep breath and fatigue settled over him. It wasn’t even late, but the darkness of the apartment mixed with the fight made him feel like he hadn’t slept in three days. Turning back to Mickey, he shook his head and signed, _“Nothing.”_

_“Tell me,”_ Mickey demanded.

            Looking back into his blue eyes, Ian shrugged and said, _“Lip cheated on her. Dick move, no arguments there, but it’s not the worst a boyfriend’s done to her.”_

_“Look at her.”_

_“Kenyatta beat her so bad she couldn’t walk! He hit her all the time. She spent hours covering up bruises. And what the fuck did you do?”_ Ian shot back, anger suddenly flaring hot inside of him. He felt sick trying to defend his brother, but the look on Mickey’s face was too much. He was disgusted by what Lip had done, angry for his sister, and ready to kill _. “You did fucking nothing!”_

_“Shut up.”_

_“You’re a fucking coward, Mick,”_ Ian shot back. He stepped away from Mickey, glaring daggers at him. _“You’ll take on Lip because he’s no fucking threat to a backyard thug like you, but Kenyatta? He’s huge. He’d have you in the ground before you even took a swing so who the fuck cares what he does to your sister? He could’ve killed her and you probably woulda shrugged and been like ‘she can take care of herself’. So how about instead of attacking my brother you man the fuck up.”_

            Mickey stared at him for a long moment, his mouth open in shock. Then he forced out a bitter laugh and asked, _“You wanna fucking take that back while you have the chance?”_

_“Or what, Mick?”_ Ian signed, taking a step forward. His eyes flashed in the darkness as he looked down at Mickey. _“You gonna take a swing? Do you think you can take me, tough guy? Or am I too big for your fucking vigilante justice too?”_

            Blue eyes looked up at him, wide with shock and anger. Mickey shifted his jaw, his teeth grinding together hard enough that it could be heard over the movie’s sad credit music. Shaking his head, he started to sign and then dropped his hands several times before managing, _“Get the fuck out of my house.”_

_“Gladly,”_ Ian replied. He stalked from the house and slammed the door behind him.


	55. Chapter 55

Ian crashed into the Gallagher house late that night and walked into the living room where Lip and Karen were half undressed on the couch. “Seriously?” Ian snapped at them. He stared blatantly as they looked up at him, the buzzing fatigue of anger still alive inside of him. “You’re doing this fucking now? You just broke up with Mandy.”

            “You dumped her?” Karen asked. “Why?”

            Lip shrugged and looked back at Ian. “We’re a little busy here.”

            “You’re...” Ian bit off his words. He laughed, the sound echoing around the small room. “You’re busy? That’s great. I’ve been busy most of the day taking care of the girl whose heart you broke, you fucking piece of shit!”

            “Ian!” Lip exclaimed. He pushed Karen off of him and got to his feet. Anger festered in his eyes, but he licked his lips as he stepped forward, staring at Ian. “You okay? You taking your meds?”

            Ian shook his head in disbelief. “I’m angry. I’m _allowed_ to be angry. Every time I show a fucking emotion it doesn’t mean I’m off my meds!”

            Lip held up his hands, warding his little brother off. He stepped closer though and gave him a weak smile. “It’s no big deal, Ian. She didn’t even really seem all that upset.”

            “You told me it was over with Karen.”

            He shrugged. “It wasn’t.”

            “You can’t possibly be this stupid,” Ian said, staring at him. “You’re on a fucking full ride scholarship and you’re telling me you actually believe that a girl’s not upset when you tell her you’re in love with someone else?”

            “Whoa,” Karen said, letting out a low whistle. She shrugged her shirt back on and got up from the couch. “No one said anything about love.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stood behind Lip, glaring at Ian.

            Lip glanced back at Karen. “I had to tell her something.”

            Shaking his head, Ian asked, “Why’d you even break up with her then?”

            Lip shrugged. “I was bored. She’s boring. I was done with it.”

            “You were...” Ian took a deep breath and forced himself to laugh again. All he wanted was to go lie in bed and sleep until the whole thing blew over. It wasn’t his relationship or his problem at all and yet it ran through him like a shot of caffeine straight to his bloodstream. “I can’t believe I just spent an hour fucking _defending_ you and the reason you broke up with her was because you were _fucking bored_?”

            “It’s not a big deal.”

            “It’s a big deal to her. It’s a big deal to her brother, who was ready to fucking kill you until I talked him out of it.”

            Lip licked his lips and said, “Look, if you and Mickey got into a fight over this, that’s not my fault.”

            “Do you understand that any of your actions have consequences? Any of them at all?”

            “Ian-”

            He shook his head. “I just need to go to sleep.”

            Turning away from his brother, he headed for the stairs, every inch of him still shaking. His throat was raw from yelling at Lip and his fingers were cramping from fighting with Mickey. He wanted the whole world to slow down and he wondered if feeling something might actually be a sign that his meds were off.

            He had a foot on the first step when Lip laid a hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” he said. “We’re good right? No hard feelings?”

            “Are you kidding?” Ian sighed, glanced over his shoulder.

            Lip shrugged. “Just a girl, right?”

            And in that second, Ian let go of all his inhibitions about whether or not his meds were working. He turned around and punched his brother in the face, sending him reeling backwards. Karen screamed and Ian pointed a finger at Lip, saying, “Mandy’s not just some fucking girl, okay?”

            Lip stepped forward and shoved him back into the railing. “I’m your brother,” he snapped. “Blood’s thicker than water, Ian.”

            “Fuck you.”

            Ian ducked as Lip took a swing at him and barrelled into his chest. They knocked into the side table, sending it and the lamp on it crashing to the ground. They landed in the glass, Lip throwing punches at Ian as Ian kicked and scraped. He threw a punch back, landing on Lip’s jaw, and blood sprayed over his knuckles.

            The glass bit into Ian’s back as Lip rolled him over, grabbing his shirt to get better leverage to punch him. Ian bit his tongue hard as his nose started bleeding but thankfully didn’t break.

            Shouting came down the stairs with the sound of several pairs of feet and then new hands added to the fray. Fiona pulled the two of them off each other, pushing Lip towards Karen before turning to face Ian. She checked his nose for broken bones and then held his face in her hands for a moment before turning to Lip and doing the same.

            Standing in between them, she said, “What the fuck is going on?”

            “Ian’s mad because he had a fight with his boyfriend,” Lip snapped, shrugging off Fiona’s attempts to wipe blood from his face. He spit blood onto the floor.

            “That’s not the problem and he knows it,” Ian said sharply.

            Fiona sighed. “Then what is?”

            “Ask him.”

            Ian glared at Lip, who rolled his eyes. “I broke up with his boyfriend’s little sister and now he’s pissed at me for it.”

            “You cheated on her.”

            “Which is probably the nicest way any guy has ever broken up with her.”

            “I asked you to be better to her,” Ian yelled. “I fucking told you not to do this!”

            Lip sighed like he thought he was the only one tiring of the argument. Like he thought her was on the right side of the argument. “Can you just go make up with your boyfriend and get your nose out of my fucking business?”

            Ian made a move for him but Fiona pushed him back with one hand. She gave him a warning glance then looked at Lip. “I know you’re not condoning treating girls like trash when your little sister’s in the room.”

            Rolling his eyes, he said, “She has no clue what the fuck I’m saying.”

            Ian glanced over at Debbie, just to confirm that fact. She looked scared but otherwise showed no signs of knowing what was going on. She squinted at people’s lips, but it was clear she was only catching a few words.

            “Whatever,” Ian said, turning back to Lip. “He can be an asshole if he wants to be, but I’m done dealing with it.”

            “I’m your brother.”

            Ian shrugged. “Don’t fucking care.”

            And then, before Fiona could grab him, he shuffled through his collected siblings and headed up the stairs. He ignored her shouting at him to come back downstairs and slammed the door to his bedroom. Flopping onto the bed, he closed his eyes and turned restlessly for most of the night without falling asleep.


	56. Chapter 56

            Ian slumped down into his seat in Psych Wednesday morning without saying anything, even when he felt Mandy staring at him. Eventually, she said, “Haven’t seen you in a few days.”

            “Sorry.”

            “Mick said you weren’t in History either.”

            Ian shrugged. “My brother’s an asshole but my boyfriend’s a dick, so I don’t really know whose side I’m supposed to be on,” he snapped. Then he glanced at Mandy, his eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry about Lip, by the way. No matter what I said to Mick, he’s still an asshole.”

            Mandy nodded and was silent for a moment before saying, “I don’t really care.”

            “What?”

            The professor greeted the class and started the lecture, but both of them ignored it. Mandy shrugged, looking up at him as she tapped the end of her pencil against her closed notebook. “Lip’s a dick. And I deserve fucking better than him. So the sad, lay-in-bed-all-day Mandy is gone and never coming back.”

            Ian blinked. “That’s good.”

            “But I’m fucking mad at you.”

            He stared at her for a second, glancing around to see how many people had heard her say that. A couple of people were staring at them, but Mandy didn’t seem to care. Licking his lips, Ian lowered his voice pointedly and asked, “What?”

            “How dare you call Mickey a coward.”

            “He is. He’ll fight Lip but not Kenyatta? You can’t tell me that seems valid to you.”

            “You don’t think he wanted to fight Kenyatta? You don’t think it took everything from him to watch that asshole walk all over me?” Mandy snapped. She shook her head at Ian, disgusted. “He would’ve strangled him if I’d let him. But I was too busy pretending to be fine and he didn’t want to shatter that for me by telling me it wasn’t okay. That nothing was okay. So, yeah, it set him off to see me fucking destroyed over Lip. But that doesn’t make him a coward.”

             “He didn’t protect you.”

            Mandy scoffed. “He does nothing but protect me. He’s the only one of my brothers who ever stood up to my dad, even though my dad hated him the most of all. When he found out what Terry did to me...” She took a hard breath and licked her lips. “He did everything in his power to get me out of there as fast as fucking possible. And now he’s working in a fucking chop shop just to keep up enough money for the apartment so that we don’t have to move back in with him. And he fucking hates it. He does. But he does it for me. And maybe you don’t know our dad and you don’t know what it takes to stand up to him, but he’s a fucking scary ass bastard. And Mickey got me the fuck away from him. So don’t you dare fucking call my brother a coward ever again.”

            He swallowed. “I didn’t know.”

            “Your right. You don’t know anything. You learn what you want to learn and you ignore the fact that we had it worse than you. You think you understand us, but you don’t. You think same neighbourhood, same crap parents, same pain. But that’s bullshit.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “I’m not the one you have to apologize to.”

            Ian sighed and looked back at the PowerPoint at the front of the room. Mandy waited patiently for him to talk again, but she never took his eyes off of him. He glanced over at her and said, “Maybe I should apologize to him, but I don’t know what that’s gonna mean.”

            She blinked.

            “We’re just... we’re always at each other’s throats. And I don’t know if we can fix that with a bunch of half-assed apologies.”

            “Then don’t half-ass it.”

            He shook his head and tried to look for a way to explain it. “It’s not arguments. It’s differences of opinion that don’t go away.”

            “Then break-up,” she said. “I don’t care. As long as you tell him you don’t think he’s a coward, I don’t care if you break his heart. Because we can deal with that. We’ve gotten through worse.”

            “I thought you said he’d break my heart.”

            “Yeah, well.” She sighed. “Maybe he’s not exactly who I thought he was.”

            Ian was silent for a long moment and then he pulled out his phone. He texted Mickey _We need to talk_ and then waited for a reply that didn’t come.


	57. Chapter 57

Ian texted Mickey eight more times between Psychology class Wednesday morning and History Thursday evening. He walked towards the class with a growing sense of dread, half expecting Mickey not to be there, boycotting it just like he had on Tuesday.

            He arrived too early, nervous to have any conversation with Mickey. He had formulated his apology a hundred times, but he had no idea what to say after that. If this was it. If he still wanted to try. If he could even begin to explain to Mickey what it was that was bugging him. If he even knew anything other than that he wanted to stop fighting.

            Tapping his foot, he watched the clock as it ticked down towards class time. It was two minutes until six when Mickey entered the class and he didn’t even look at him. He sat down beside him all the same, taking a deep breath before glancing over.

            Ian signed quickly, afraid Mickey was going to ignore him _. “I’ve been texting you.”_

            Mickey licked his lips. _“I saw.”_

_“Why didn’t you reply?”_

_“What’d you want me to fucking say?”_ Mickey asked, his blue eyes flashing with hurt and anger. _“If you’re gonna break up with me, just pull the fucking plug.”_

            Ian blinked _. “Mandy tell you that?”_

_“You said ‘we need to talk’, Ian.”_

            Sighing, Ian tried to find the reasoning behind his words, but the professor started talking. And when Ian’s sentence started without a fact about history, Mickey interrupted, _“Just fucking tell me what he’s saying.”_

            Cowed, Ian stopped in the middle of a word and switched to interpreting. His fingers itched to change to explanation every time his brain came up with a new excuse. A new way of putting what he wanted to say. But Mickey was barely paying attention to Ian trying to help him, so he forced himself to stay the course, silently admonishing himself for starting with the words ‘we need to talk’.

            Class stopped for a break and Ian quickly signed, _“I don’t know what I want.”_

_“Bullshit.”_

_“We’re fighting constantly and I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t want to be in a relationship where we’re just mad at each other all the time and neither of us know what the hell’s going on.”_

_“I didn’t want a relationship in the first place,”_ Mickey replied. _“That was all you, Ian. And all it’s done is make everything worse.”_

_“Mick-”_ Ian started, but the instructor started the class again and he was forced to go back to interpreting. His lips were pressed into a thin line and his signs were slow as he tried to figure out what it was Mickey was saying to him. What Mickey thought he was saying to him. He was hopelessly lost in his own head, barely listening to the professor, and Mickey’s annoyance at his less-than-perfect interpreting showed.

            When class ended, Mickey shut his notebook and signed, _“We’re both going to fail that fucking section of the test.”_ He walked off before Ian could reply.

            Scrambling, Ian got his books together and ran after Mickey, pulling him to a stop in the middle of the hallway as a crush of people passed by. He tripped over people’s outstretched feet as he dragged Mickey to the side of the hall, ignoring the bored and resigned look on Mickey’s face.

            When they stopped against the wall, Ian stared at Mickey for a long moment, unsure of what to say. Mickey simply stared back, looking like he knew exactly what Ian was going to say, despite the fact that Ian himself still didn’t know if he wanted to break-up or not. Looking into the blue eyes across from him, he found it hard to believe he had even considered it. He wasn’t sure there were any other eyes he could imagine waking up next to.

            _“I’m sorry,”_ Ian signed, finally deciding to go with the apology he had built. _“You’re not a coward and I shouldn’t’ve said it.”_

            Mickey nodded grudgingly.

            Licking his lips, Ian said, _“And my brother’s an asshole and he shouldn’t have hurt Mandy like that. But he doesn’t deserve to die for that.”_

            He rolled his eyes. _“I wasn’t gonna kill him.”_

_“You seemed pretty serious.”_

            Mickey didn’t dignify that with a response.

            Ian looked down at the ground, unsure where to start with the rest of it. The apology hadn’t gone his way, but with Mickey thinking he was going to end things, he didn’t know how well he could have expected it to go. With a sigh, he signed, _“Why do we keep doing this?”_

            Mickey shrugged. _“Thought you were into it.”_

_“I mean fighting.”_

_“This is our second fight.”_

_“Third. And we’ve been dating less than two weeks.”_

            Mickey rubbed a hand across his face and looked towards the wall. His hands were still for a long moment and then he said, without looking at his own words, _“So that’s it? Experiment over. You couldn’t turn a thug into a boyfriend.”_

            Ian stopped his sigh, ignored the groan rumbling through his body. He bit his lips together and then shook his head. _“It’s not you. It’s us. We don’t fit.”_

_“I think we fit pretty well.”_

_“Are you not in the same relationship?”_

            Blue eyes widening, Mickey looked back at Ian, all anger gone from his expression. For just a second, he looked desperate and Ian’s heart sunk to the bottoms of his feet. Mickey’s hands flickered in the air, his fingers twitching, before he managed to form the words, _“I don’t wanna lose you.”_

            Ian stared at his falling hands _. “I don’t know what to do.”_

_“Give it another chance.”_

_“And then?”_

            Mickey shrugged. _“The way I see it, you wanna be with me or you don’t. And if you don’t, then just fucking leave. But if you’re unsure-”_

_“This isn’t about me not wanting to be with you. I wanna be with you all the time. I’ve been going crazy being mad at you this long. All my family thinks-”_ he cut himself off before finishing with ‘I’m off my meds’. He shook his head. _“But I don’t know if that’s healthy.”_

_“Healthy isn’t really my specialty,”_ Mickey replied and Ian smiled weakly in response. _“Just come home with me. We can figure this out.”_

_“And if we can’t?”_

            He shrugged again, chewing on his bottom lip. A crimson spot of blood showed through a patch of torn white skin. _“Then we go back to the no strings thing.”_

            Ian stared at him uncertainly.

            Mickey sighed. _“Look. I didn’t want to fucking do this. It wasn’t my fucking idea to get all tied up in this and talk about shit and fall in-”_ He stopped himself just short of signing the next word and swallowed hard. Shaking his head, he said, _“But for some fucking reason I still wanna do it, even if it’s all going to shit. So don’t give up on me just because I’m new at this.”_

            Ian nodded, his heart pounding hard against his chest, and Mickey stepped forward to kiss him. Ian’s whole body relaxed at Mickey’s touch. He looked down into Mickey’s eyes as their lips pulled apart and licked the metallic taste of blood off his lips. Taking a deep breath, he signed, _“We can do this, right?”_

_“We’ll fucking try,”_ Mickey replied before kissing him again.


	58. Chapter 58

Ian walked up to the metal door of Mickey’s apartment late Friday night and hesitated. Rubbing his hands together, he took a deep breath and mentally reminded himself of why this was going to work. Why he was going to make this work. Then, he texted Mickey he was there and promised himself that somehow, this date wouldn’t end in a fight.

            Mickey opened the door and offered a nervous smile. Ian met his eyes and all of his worries were gone. He could ask himself a million times why he was trying so hard and not come up with a reason until Mickey was standing right in front of him. And then no reason mattered because his heart completely took over his head. He smiled broadly and the thin smile on Mickey’s lips widened.

            Gesturing for him to follow, Mickey walked back into the apartment and towards the kitchen. He had every vegetable imaginable lined up on the counter, sorted by colour, and a large steak knife rested against a red and white cutting board. A box of five-minute rice sat next to the stove beside what looked to be a forty year-old frying pan.

            _“Stir fry?”_ Ian signed.

            Mickey nodded.

            _“Got a knife that isn’t for steak?”_

_“You just got here and you’re already starting a fight?”_ he asked, cocking an eyebrow. He held the knife loosely, waving it in a tsking motion with a smirk on his face.

            Ian rolled his eyes, a smile already forming on his lips, and made his way around the counter to stand beside Mickey. He picked a smaller knife out of the block –still not anything a chef would normally cut vegetables with but better than what Mickey was using– and pulled a red pepper towards him.

            _“No meat?”_ he asked.

            _“Not unless you wanted me to steal it.”_

            Swallowing his frown, Ian looked down at what he was doing and started cutting the pepper into quarters. Mickey worked beside him silently, dicing cucumbers. When mostly everything was cut up, Mickey asked, _“So, uh, you actually know how to do this?”_

_“This was your idea.”_

_“Do I look like a fucking chef?”_

_“Do I?”_

            Mickey shrugged. _“You work in a restaurant.”_

            Ian shook his head, laughing, and then said, _“You still hooked into the neighbours wifi?”_

            He pulled out his phone and Mickey took it from him, quickly connecting it and then Googling how to make stir fry. He put the phone down, leaving it open to a WikiHow page, and then turned on one of the burners on the stove. Placing the pan on top of it, he turned to the rice and quickly read the instructions.

            As he started making it, Ian took it away from him, sending him back to slicing vegetables. He made the rice in a pot, turning off the burner under the frying pan, and then switched the rice to the pan. He turned on the heat again and turned around to find Mickey behind him, ready to throw vegetables into the pan.

            They had way too many vegetables and ended up making a salad on the side. _“This go in bowls or plates?”_ Mickey asked as he dragged a spoon across the pan.

            Ian shrugged and started looking through cupboards. He found exactly one bowl and one plate and slid them over to Mickey. _“Did you get anything for this place before moving here?”_ Ian asked.

            Mickey shrugged. _“Whatever the last guy left. We got a discount ‘cause his blood was all over that wall.”_ He gestured to the one behind the TV.

            Staring at it, Ian stopped himself from asking if the blood was _still_ all over the wall. Which, knowing the state of the rest of the apartment, was very likely. He took the bowl from Mickey when he offered it and headed over to the table. Mickey followed after, balancing his plate in the crook of his elbow, holding a beer in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

            They ate in companionable silence, making faces at the unevenness of their cooking. Mickey quit trying about halfway through while Ian ate quickly, trying to mask the taste by swallowing without chewing. Mickey smirked at him, holding back a laugh, and Ian wished he wouldn’t.

            _“So,”_ Mickey signed once he swallowed his smile. _“You still wanna talk?”_

_“About what?”_

            Mickey licked his bottom lip and Ian stared at him nervously, his stomach curling around his decision. He didn’t want to talk about anything at all. They had worked in perfect harmony, falling into cooking together like it was something they’d done their whole lives. He didn’t want to shatter that by sharing doubts that went away as soon as he saw Mickey’s blue eyes. But when Mickey just stared at him, he realized he might have to.

            _“I don’t wanna be wrong about us,”_ Ian signed.

            _“Me neither.”_

            Ian stood up from the table and leaned down to kiss Mickey, their lips touching softly. He pulled back, breathing in Mickey’s greasy scent, and asked, _“Is there anything unresolved?”_

            Mickey stared at him for a moment. _“I’m not a coward.”_ Ian shook his head _. “Dining and dashing was fun.”_ Ian made a face, but had to smile when he saw the way Mickey was looking at him. _“And the chop shop pays the bills.”_

            Ian was silent.

            _“But I’m lookin’ for something else.”_

            Ian closed the distance between them with a kiss, pushing hard enough that Mickey’s chair rocked unsteadily on its back legs. Mickey moved forward, slipping out of the chair and sending it careening towards the floor. Even Ian didn’t flinch at the sound of it falling, all of him wrapped up in the buzz of Mickey’s lips against his.

            And as they kissed, hands exploring exposed skin, a small part of Ian knew that every single one of his doubts was going to come back the moment the kiss ended. As soon as the room was dark and Mickey’s eyes were closed and the only sound he could hear was his boyfriend’s soft breaths, everything would come flooding back. But he knew he could turn to the side and look at the boy by his side, the thug who looked at him like he was sunshine, and know that whether it was going to work or not, he wasn’t going to let Mickey go for the entire world.


	59. Chapter 59

Ian watched Mickey as the sun came in through the curtains. His shoulders rose slowly, his whole body pulsing on top of Ian. Brushing his fingers through black hair, Ian had the urge to bend his neck and kiss him, but he didn’t want to wake him up. His skin was warm where Mickey touched him, but cold everywhere else, like something was missing.

            He waited patiently for Mickey to wake and, when he did, his first indication was soft kisses fluttering across his stomach. He closed his eyes as Mickey’s kisses went from numbly sleepy to hard against his skin, working their way up the side of his ribs to the spot on his neck that always made him moan.

            He felt Mickey smiling against him, the edges of his teeth pressing into his neck. Then Mickey’s head fell, nuzzling into his shoulder with a sleepy noise. “Morning,” Mickey mumbled, his voice unkindly loud in the early morning.

            Ian finally gave in and kissed the top of his head. He rolled over, Mickey landing on his back beneath him, and kissed him full on the mouth. Slowly, lovingly, as if just kissing him could fix everything that his brain still insisted was a problem with them. Mickey murmured against his lips, forming words that weren’t really words until Ian pulled away to look at him.

            _“Why do I get the feeling you’re not okay?”_ Mickey signed, his eyes sparkling with sadness.

            _“I’m trying to be.”_

_“Is it hard?”_

            Ian stared at him and licked his lips. He had a whole speech ready to launch, one he had given a thousand times, about how the pills weren’t a fix all. About how they didn’t magically put him back together, piece by piece, until he was normal. But he knew the weighted sadness in his chest wasn’t what Mickey was talking about.

            Taking a deep breath, he shook his head. _“I’m just an idiot.”_

_“Well, you’re with me so-”_

            Laughing, Ian leaned into Mickey’s moving hands and kissed him. He knocked their foreheads together and smiled brightly, looking down into his eyes. He pulled back just enough to sign, _“I meant I’m an idiot for doubting us.”_

            Mickey gave him a look like he didn’t agree and Ian kissed him again. But Mickey’s expression was too wide and his smile too big for their lips to actually hit and they ended up painfully knocking their teeth together. Ian laughed, rolling off of Mickey and onto his side of the bed before looking back at Mickey’s wince.

            _“Sorry,”_ Ian signed.

            _“No worries.”_

            Ian reached forward and caressed Mickey’ cheek, watching as his smile started to come back. _“What’d I do to deserve you?”_ Mickey asked.

            Dropping his hand, Ian replied _, “Bad things.”_

            He shook his head _. “I must have done something very, very good.”_

            Ian kissed him again, wrapping his hand around the back of his head and pressing their bodies together. The warmth of Mickey’s skin enveloped him, lazy and hot in the cold November morning. He kissed him slowly, gently, like it was the first time their lips were meeting. Both of them were still numb with sleep, too tired from last night to go further than lying together, pretending their lips were an important part of the situation.

            A buzz sounded against the side table and Ian winced in the middle of a kiss. He pulled back, Mickey’s fingers scraping against him as he stretched out of the embrace and blindly reached for his phone. He pulled it off the side table and squinted up at the harsh light as Mickey nuzzled into his shoulder again.

            He groaned and glanced at Mickey _. “I told my sister I’d be home this morning.”_

            Mickey stared at him for a second, his lips struggling around a smile, and then laughed. _“You underestimate me,”_ he signed.

            Ian kicked out at him with his leg, but so close together he only ended up tangling them closer together. He turned his head to the side and pressed their lips together, ignoring Mickey’s hip poking into his waist. Then he turned back to his phone and texted Fiona where he was, adding an apology at the end.

            She texted back a second later: _Mick coming to Thanksgiving?_

            Ian blinked, trying to understand, before quickly checking the date. He turned towards Mickey and asked, _“You wanna come to Thanksgiving?”_

_“What?”_

_“You know. The holiday with the turkey.”_

            Mickey stared at him a moment. _“What about Mandy?”_

_“She can come to.”_

_“To Thanksgiving with her ex?”_ Mickey asked, raising an eyebrow. _“That sound to you like something she’d be down for?”_

_“Better than eating your god-awful cooking,”_ Ian replied. _“Knowing you, you won’t even splurge for a turkey. Probably cold pop tarts built into a pyramid that looks vaguely like a bird if you close one eye and squint real hard and-”_

_“Fuck off.”_

            He smiled. _“Fiona wants you there.”_

            Mickey sighed heavily. Then he quirked up half of his smile, staring at Ian like there was nothing else he would rather look at. _“If you can convince Mandy...”_ he started, but Ian turned away before he saw the end of the sentence.

            He pulled on his boxers and walked next door, banging hard against it to be heard through Mandy’s earplugs. She came to the door a few minutes later, her hair sticking up, all pushed to one side of her head, and big black circles under her eyes. “What?” she mumbled sleepily. “It’s not enough that you keep me up all night?”

            “Thanksgiving, my place,” Ian said. “You wanna come?”

            “With Lip?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Karen?”

            Ian shrugged.

            “Then no.”

            “Come on,” Ian said, stopping the door with his hand. He glanced over to the other doorway where Mickey was standing and signed to Mandy, _“I want Mick to come but he’s not gonna leave you behind.”_

            She crossed her arms. “He’s welcome to leave me behind.”

            _“You really think he’s gonna?”_

            Mandy licked her bottom lip and then bit it hard. She said, “Talk to your brother first. Tell him to stay the fuck away from me. And maybe, _maybe,_ if I’m in a good mood, I’ll come. But I’ll kick Mick’s ass if he doesn’t go without me.”

            Ian smiled and asked, “You think you can?”

            “Ever seen him stand up to me?”

            He swallowed his smile, looking over at Mickey to make sure he didn’t catch that part of the conversation, and then signed, _“Thank you.”_

            He walked back over to Mickey and kissed him. _“You ready for another Gallagher holiday?”_ he asked.

            Mickey’s eyes went from shining to horrified in the space of a second. Sighing, he signed, _“Fucking kill me,”_ and then made his way back to the bedroom.


	60. Chapter 60

“Hey, wasn’t expecting you,” Fiona said as Ian stepped through the backdoor of the kitchen. She was sitting across from Debbie, her fingers falling as she greeted Ian aloud.

            Ian spared a moment to frown at her before saying, “Do I have to call before coming home now?”

            She shook her head. “Just didn’t think I’d see you until dinner tomorrow. Mick still coming?”

            “Yeah, his sister too.”

            Fiona nodded, mentally making a note of her changed numbers, then said, “Okay.”

            “Lip here?” Ian asked as he dropped his jacket on a coat rack.

            “Depends,” Fiona replied. She paused, glancing down at what Debbie was writing, and then added, “You gonna hit ‘im again?”

            “Hopefully not.”

            She stared at him for a moment and then shook her head. “Upstairs.” She went back to helping Debbie with her homework, sparing only one last warning glance at Ian who waved her off.

            Ian headed up the stairs, following the sound of Lip’s voice to his bedroom. He stood at the end of his bed, watching Liam jump up and down, and was desperately trying to get him to put on some pants. “Come on,” he said. “It’s fun wearing pants. Everyone wears pants. I do it... and Ian does it,” he added, glancing towards the doorway. “Tell Liam how much fun it is to wear pants.”

            Hiding a smile, Ian stepped into the small room and grabbed Liam by the waist. He bounced slightly when his feet hit the bed, but stayed relatively still in his brother’s grasp. Ian looked him in the eye and said, “Tell you a secret?”

            Liam nodded, his eyes going wide.

            “Wearing pants sucks,” Ian said, “but grown-ups have to do it. Know why?”

            He shook his head.

            “It hides our Scooby-doo underwear.”

            Liam tilted his head to the side, a doubtful expression on his face. “You don’t have Scooby-doo underwear.”

            “Do so.”

            “Prove it.”

            Ian tsked. “That would kinda ruin the purpose of pants.”

            “Everyone here knows I wear Scooby-doo underwear,” Liam replied matter-of-factly. Then he moved to step off the bed, stopping only because Lip pulled him back so that he fell on his butt.

            “Tell you what, buddy,” Lip said. “I’ve got...” he paused, pulling out wrinkled dollar bills from his back pocket. “Six bucks. It’s yours if you put on some pants.”

            Liam stared at him for a moment and then crossed his arms. “Ten.”

            “I don’t have ten.”

            Ian dug into his back pocket, two dollar bills and an assortment of coins glittering in the palm of his hand. “How about... nine sixty-seven?”

            “Fine.”

            Lip and Ian handed over the money and Liam snatched his pants up off the floor. He pulled them on and ran out of the room, tripping over the too-long hem of his jeans. Lip let out a short laugh and said, “Thanks.”

            Ian shrugged.

            “How’s your nose?”

            “Apparently better than your eye,” Ian replied, gesturing at the fading brown mark around Lip’s left eye. “Sorry about that.”

            Lip shrugged, placing a cigarette between his lips. He leaned over to open the window in the small room, falling down to sit on the bed as he did so, and said, “Don’t worry about it. Not the worst fight we’ve been in.”

            “If you’re referring to eighth grade-”

            “You nearly broke my arm.”

            “You asked for it,” Ian said, snatching the cigarette from his brother. He sat down beside him as he took a drag and then handed it back. “Mandy’s coming to Thanksgiving tomorrow.”

            “So she can witness the damage you did to my face?”

            Ian smirked. “I’m not gonna say she won’t appreciate it, but no. Mick’s coming so she’s coming and she asked me to tell you something for her.”

            Lip hesitated a moment, blowing smoke out the window. Then he said, “All right. Hit me.”

            “Stay the fuck away from her. And keep Karen away from her, too.”

            “I can try with Karen, but-”

            “She’s a bitch.”

            Lip laughed, shrugging. He handed the cigarette back to Ian and rubbed his hands across the front of his jeans. “I’ll do my best.”

            “And maybe try not to be too handsy with Karen,” Ian said. “Or, you know, do anything that might piss Mandy off and make her wanna leave.”

            He rolled his eyes and nodded again. “Everything’s okay with you and Mickey then?”

            Ian shrugged. “Who the fuck knows?” He blew out smoke in rings and then winced when a loud crash came from below, followed by a string of cursing.  He glanced towards Lip who got up off the bed and shut the door before sitting back down.


	61. Chapter 61

Ian woke to the sound of a thousand pots and pans clattering downstairs. Blinking open his eyes, he saw that Liam’s bed was empty –and noted that he was probably the source of the chaos downstairs– and that Carl had several pillows curled over his head. He still winced at every sound though.

            Swinging his legs off the bed, Ian stretched and paused for a moment. He felt like he had woken up having already forgotten something important, like he had missed something late last night that he was supposed to do. And he sat there for five minutes, wondering what it was, before his phone buzzed.

            _Mandy’s trying to put me in a fucking tie,_ Mickey said.

            And the hole in Ian’s morning shrunk as he texted back, telling him no tie was necessary. Getting to his feet, he grabbed Carl’s leg and shook it hard. “Get up,” he said. “Fiona’s going to want all our help in the kitchen.”

            Carl grumbled something indecipherable and Ian left him alone. He took the stairs two at a time, running a hand through his hair as he went. He stopped with one foot on the kitchen tiles, staring with impressed horror.

            Fiona was crouched in front of the oven, basting the turkey and checking the thermometer stuffed through its middle. Debbie was pouring pumpkin pie filling into a crust while keeping one eye on a set of tin foil baked potatoes that were lined up in rows across a grill on the counter. Lip sat on the other side of the counter, calmly opening a can of cranberry jelly.

            Standing up, Fiona glanced towards Ian and said, “We need apples.”

            “You need Mickey to bring anything?”

            She bit her lip, thinking. “Wine?”

            “You’re going to trust Mickey to pick out wine?”

            “Tell him five bucks or less and he’ll do fine,” she replied, already turning to start the next thing on her list. “Wait,” she said, pausing for a second as he started up the stairs. “I refilled your prescriptions. Make sure you put more in your bag?”

            Ian nodded, turned back up the stairs and got dressed as quickly as he could. Then he headed out to the grocery store, picked up a bag of apples, and stopped at the diner on the way back to get breakfast. He was a couple cents short of the order but Jackie picked up the rest, wishing him a Happy Thanksgiving and walking away before he could return the pleasantry.

            The rest of the day was a blur of activity. Ian spent most of it trying to keep Liam out of the kitchen without letting him make a mess of the rest of the house. The rest of the house was already a mess, but Fiona had done her best to clean up what she could, throwing the majority of Liam’s toys under the stairs and stuffing everyone’s scattered schoolwork into various bags.

            Kev and Vee came over too early, Vee immediately shoving into the crowded kitchen while Kev turned on the game. The static of the TV speakers filled the house, adding an intolerable white noise to the mess of Fiona’s shouting and Vee’s yelling and Lip telling everyone to calm down.

            Karen walked into the house without knocking an hour before dinner was supposed to start. “Hey, Ian,” she said.

            “Hey,” he said, looking up from Liam for a split second. “Where’s Hymie?”

            “Mom’s got him,” she said dismissively before heading into the kitchen. Ian watched as she pulled Lip away from the fray and up the stairs, biting his lip to stop himself from reminding his brother of his promise.

            With the turkey out of the oven and the pies in, Ian looked down at his phone. No texts from either of the Milkoviches. He hesitated over texting them and settled on asking Mandy where they were. _Ten minutes_ was the reply he got, but ten minutes later they weren’t there.

            “How much longer until dinner?” Ian asked, poking his head into the kitchen. He glanced back at Liam, hidden under the stairs, while waiting for the answer. Then he looked at his phone and texted Mandy again.

            “Uhh... the table’s almost set,” Fiona said, mumbling over her words as she checked off which dishes were already cooked. “Maybe five minutes? Mickey close?”

            “No clue,” he replied, stuffing his phone back in his pocket.

            “He’ll be here,” she said, sounding confident for his sake. Then she added, “Or I’ll kill him for the amount of leftovers he’s making me stuff in this tiny fucking fridge.”

            “You love leftovers.”

            Fiona shrugged, spared a moment to kiss Ian roughly on the forehead, then turned back to the growing piles of food on the kitchen table. She pulled a carving knife out of the wooden block and set it down near the centre of the table.

            Ian texted Mandy again, just as the doorbell sounded.

            Liam scuttled out from under the stairs and ran for the door, Ian heading after him. He came to the mud room just as Liam signed, _“Hi! Dinner’s ready.”_

            The two Milkoviches stood side by side, an obvious tension buzzing between them.

            “Sorry we’re late,” Mandy said, making a face as she stepped over the threshold and away from her brother. She held up a brown paper bag in the shape of a wine bottle and added, “We went with white.”

            Ian smiled and wrapped her in a hug. He stepped out of the doorway, pushing Liam back towards the kitchen, and gestured for them to come in. Mandy headed after Liam and Ian turned towards Mickey, raising an eyebrow.

            Mickey ignored his silent question and signed, _“Still have to chase him this holiday?”_

            Ian shrugged. _“Only if he gets out the door.”_

            Smiling, Mickey leaned forward and pecked Ian on the lips before stepping inside. Ian closed the door on the chill of the outdoors, but it was just as cold inside with the heat on low. The two of them headed into the kitchen, where a flurry of activity was taking place. Fiona glanced at the two of them, but said nothing and looked at Debbie, whose hands weren’t full.

            Debbie signed, _“Far side. Between Mandy and me.”_

            Ian led Mickey around the table, their fingers intertwined, and skirted the movement of different dishes flying through the air. It was a few minutes before everyone was seated at the table and Ian introduced Mickey and Mandy to Kev and Vee. Kevin stared at Ian’s signing, only realizing what was said when Vee whispered it in his ear.

            “Oh,” he said loudly. “Nice to meet you.”

            Mickey nodded in acknowledgement as Fiona started carving the turkey. Dishes started getting passed around the table and conversation was abandoned in favour of eating. Mandy kept her eyes on her food, avoided looking at either Karen or Lip who were sitting, mercifully, at the other end of the table.

            Mickey signed with Debbie. There were long pauses in their conversations as they stuffed food in their mouths. Ian fielded questions from Vee about university and his classes, talking around the food in his mouth. The conversation ebbed and flowed as everyone ate.

            When people were starting to lean back from their plates, Karen said, “You know, Mandy, it was really nice of you to come here today. I’m glad we can be civil towards each other.” She smiled broadly.

            Mandy looked up at her, boredom written across her face. “It’s nice.”

            “Of course, I got Lip, so really...”

            “You lost?” Mandy suggested.

            Karen shut her mouth abruptly as Ian bit down hard on a laugh. Mickey looked at him curiously and Ian signed to him his sister’s comeback. Then he also had to hide a smile as Karen stormed off from the table. Lip rolled his eyes at her, only following when she screamed his name from the other room.

            “Pies still have ten minutes,” Fiona said, turning around in her chair.

            Mandy looked towards Mickey and signed, _“If we’re gonna go, we should.”_

_“No.”_

_“Mick-”_

_“I said no five times. I’m saying no now. We’re not goin’.”_

            Mandy glared at him, her eyes flashing. She glanced around the table, but most of the people who could understand their argument weren’t paying attention. Only Ian, sitting in between them, noticed that their earlier tension had returned in full force.

            _“I’m not talking about visiting dad,”_ Mandy said. _“I’m saying let’s go see Iggy. Jamie. It’s a family holiday, after all.”_

_“Yeah. And we’re family and we’re here.”_

_“And what? Ian’s family to you now?”_ she asked. Mickey didn’t reply. She sighed. _“I just want to see my brothers on Thanksgiving. Is that so terrible?”_

_“Dad’s gonna be there.”_

_“Then don’t come.”_

_“You think I’d fucking let you go without me?”_

_“Well, I’m going either way. So make up your mind.”_

            She stood and, moving towards the front door, quickly thanked Fiona for the meal. She said she’d be back and, once she was in the living room, Mickey got to his feet and went after her. Ian was up a second later.

            “Where you going?” Fiona called.

            Ian replied, “Their house. We’ll be back.”

            He ran out the door after the two of them and caught up to them down the sidewalk. Mickey was still trying to convince Mandy this was a terrible idea, but she blatantly ignored him, keeping her eyes forward. He gave up as they turned up the block and bit his lip.

            Ian walked with them awkwardly, not really sure why he was there. If Mickey was going to protect Mandy, he would go to protect Mickey. His stomach curled as he mentally went over what he knew about their dad and several times he almost reached for Mickey’s hand before reminding himself of what Fiona had said weeks before.

            The three of them charged towards the Milkovich house, Mandy in the front. She took a deep breath on the porch, pausing to collect herself. Mickey signed, _“You don’t have to do this,”_ and, as if it was purely to spite him, she knocked.

            Iggy burped as he opened the door. Then, seeing Mandy, he smiled and pulled her into a tight hug. “Well, looky here! Mick said he was never bringing you back to this place.”

            “I might’ve dragged him,” she replied.

            “Come in,” Iggy said, stepping back into the hall.

            Mickey stepped in front of Mandy, entering the house first. He signed, _“Dad here?”_

            “Haven’t seen ‘im in a couple days.”

            Mickey visibly relaxed and stepped out of the way to let Mandy in. Ian followed after, smiling at Iggy’s delayed greeting, and looked around. The walls were painted white, but stained to a sickly grey. A mess of a living room was to their right, covered with unopened envelopes marked with red “LAST NOTICE” stamps. The furniture had ripped covers and scratched legs, but was still standing. The living room opened into a small galley kitchen that led to a backdoor.

            Two more heavyset men lay on the couch in front of the TV. They grunted greetings to their siblings, their mouths full of egg salad sandwiches. Iggy leaned back on the kitchen table and crossed his arms.

            “We got some food in the kitchen if you want it,” he said.

            Mandy shook her head. “Just sayin’ hi. I’ve missed you guys.” Her voice shook over the last words, but she swallowed the lie with a smile.

            Iggy stood and hugged her again, patting her hard on the back. “We missed you too. The high and mighty college Milkoviches, we like to call ya. Livin’ the dream and all. ‘Course, Terry’s convinced you’re dead.”

            _“Let ‘im believe that?”_ Mickey asked.

            Iggy snorted and then picked up a sandwich from behind him on the table. He bit in, chewing while he talked. “We try to convince him he didn’t let you go to your deaths. Not that he’d care much if Mandy wasn’t his favourite.”

            Both Mickey and Mandy winced at the statement and Ian finally reached out to at least squeeze Mandy’s hand. As soon as their fingers locked, Ian realized she was shaking. Her eyes darted around the house like she was afraid an attack could come from any corner and Mickey shared her high alert.

            Mickey started to sign, asking Iggy about what was going on and the two of them fell quickly into conversation. Ian watched their odd dynamic as he held tightly to Mandy, silently sending her signals that everything was okay. He was so calm that he almost didn’t react when the front door opened and someone knocked into him from the side.

            He looked up as a man with thinning grey hair and a beer gut to rival Frank’s lumbered past him and cuffed Mickey across the back of the head, hard enough that Mickey stumbled forwards. The man grabbed Mickey’s fingers in mid air and wrapped his fist around them.

            “THE FUCK DID I TELL YOU ABOUT THIS GIBBERISH?” he shouted.

            Ian managed only to move his head enough to look over at Mandy, who was frozen beside him. He was certain she had stopped breathing. And when he looked back at Mickey to see that he only had eyes for his sister, Ian sprinted into action. He pushed Mandy towards the open door, out into the cold, and then hesitated at the threshold, wondering whether or not he should go with her.

            The man –Mickey’s father, Ian realized– threw Mickey’s hand out of his and spat on the ground. He smiled crookedly, revealing several missing teeth and bloody gums. “I’M FUCKING SURPRISED THE KING DECIDED TO DEEM US WITH HIS PRESENCE.”

            Ian watched as Mickey stared at his father. He didn’t flinch, but every muscle in his body tensed so tightly that he seemed to vibrate on the spot. He stopped blinking all together, focussing solely on what his father was shouting. He didn’t even bother to rub at his sore fingers as his hands hung limply at his sides.

            “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?” Terry asked. He stepped closer to his son, despite the fact that he was already nearly on top of him. Mickey’s eyes flickered up to his father’s lips and stayed there. “Right, yes or no questions for the king,” he hissed. He slapped Mickey hard across the cheek, but he barely even flinched on impact. “You doin’ all right without me, retard?”

            Mickey nodded stiffly and Ian was amazed at his ability to decipher Terry’s words. The man’s words were slurred so badly and his lips were pulled to an odd angle by an old injury. Ian wanted to do something to help, but he was frozen to the spot, watching his boyfriend face down his father.

            “You wanna come home yet? You up at night crying for your mommy yet?”

            Mickey stared back mutely.

            “YOU’LL FUCKING ANSWER YOUR FATHER!” Terry slammed his fist down against the wall, shaking it so badly that Mickey flinched. Ian stepped forward, his fingers itching to interpret, but Iggy shook his head, his eyes warning Ian to stay back. Ian swallowed hard and subjected himself to watch the scene play out before him.

            Mickey, amazingly, stayed rooted to the spot even when his father spat in his face. He swallowed hard as he looked at Terry, his jaw clenched. He blinked once before going back to staring, determined not to miss a word coming out of Terry’s mouth.

            “You wanna come home yet?” Terry hissed. He grabbed Mickey’s shirt and slammed him back into the wall.

            Mickey shook his head.

            “You cry at night?”

            He shook his head again.

            “You miss me?” he asked, the words barely making his lips move.

            Mickey stared at him for a long moment and then, when his dad cocked an eyebrow, guessed. He shook his head and Terry laughed, loud and brutal He slapped his son again, the sound cracking across the room.

            “You miss me?”

            Mickey nodded.

            “LIAR!”

            Terry took a swing and Mickey’s head slammed back into the wall. His father shook him, slurring shouted gibberish, and Ian moved on instinct. He pushed Terry off of Mickey, managing it only because of how drunk the older man was. Then he stood frozen between the two of them, Terry’s cloudy eyes glaring at him.

            Ian almost wished that Terry would take another swing. His whole body was trembling, fight or flight rushing through his veins. And if ever there was a fight that he wanted to finish, it was this one.

            “The fuck are you?” Terry spat.

            “M...” Ian cut himself off. “Mandy’s boyfriend.”

            Terry smirked in a manner that made Ian’s hands curl into fists.

            “We’re leaving,” Ian said, knowing he had to before he ended up knocking the rest of the teeth from the guy’s mouth. He grabbed Mickey by the shoulder and gently pushed him towards the door. He shook internally as he stared down Mickey’s dad, silently praying that the man wouldn’t make another move.

            He backed out of the house and then closed the door quickly. It slammed and he turned to find Mickey stopped right in front of him, having not moved an inch since Ian let go of him. Mandy was sitting on the curb, looking back at them with wide eyes, her fingernails digging into the pavement.

            Ian reached out to touch Mickey’s shoulder, but he shook him off hard and headed down the stairs. He started walking back towards the Gallagher house without a word. Ian glanced towards Mandy, who looked as terrified as he felt, and then she scrambled to her feet to go after her brother. Ian followed after them.

            He had no idea what to say, so he let the silence win. He tried to convince them not to drive home right away, but Mickey ignored him as Mandy began to apologize to both of them. Ian waved off her worry, wrapped her in a quick hug, and then helped her into the car before Mickey shifted it into drive. The car started smoothly, not even clunking like the old one, and Mickey drove away without so much as a glance Ian’s way.


	62. Chapter 62

Ian walked back into the house, glancing at the TV as he passed through the living room. Kev invited him to watch the game but he ignored him, heading into the kitchen where Fiona and Vee were signing with Debbie.

            _“Hey,”_ Fiona signed, looking towards Ian. _“Where’s Mick?”_

            _“Went home.”_

            She glanced towards Vee and Debbie, then stepped away from the counter. Standing in front of Ian, she whispered, “Everything all right?”

            He shook his head. “I have no idea.” He checked his phone and had nothing but apology texts from Mandy. “His dad was there.”

            Fiona smoothed down his hair and then asked weakly, “Want some pie?”

            Ian shook his head. He looked back down at his phone nervously, then said, “I’m gonna catch a bus to Evanston.” Fiona nodded and he grabbed his bag, heading out the backdoor.

            He had to wait twenty minutes for a bus to show and spent the whole time pacing, sending random texts to both Mandy and Mickey, hoping for a reply. But even Mandy wouldn’t answer him. He put his phone away when the bus came and forced himself to sit down near the back, even as he itched to pace the aisle.

            He switched buses quickly, getting on not quite the right one, and got off a block away from the apartment. He sent texts to both of them saying he was coming to the apartment and then held his phone in his hand the whole walk there.

            He was shaking by the time he reached the apartment building and still hadn’t got a text back. Taking the stairs two at a time, he let the metal rattle through him and knocked hard on the door. Mandy answered almost immediately.

            “Hey,” Ian said, forcing himself to still. “You okay?”

            She bit her bottom lip and shook her head. “What’d he do?”

            Ian shrugged. “Hit him. Yelled. I don’t really know.”

            She stared at Ian for a second before moving out of the way. “He’s in his room,” she said, closing the door behind him.

            Ian headed for the room, but paused halfway there to turn and wrap Mandy in a hug. He said, “I’m so sorry.”

            She pushed him off. “Just see if he’ll talk to you?”

            He nodded and slowly opened the door to Mickey’s room. He slipped through a small crack, pausing for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness, and then crept towards the bed. He laid a hand on top of Mickey’s bare shoulder, waiting for him to pull away.

            But Mickey didn’t pull away. He didn’t move at all as the warmth of Ian’s fingers settled onto his skin. Ian swallowed his desire to shake him and pulled his hand back. He stripped down to his underwear and crawled into the bed, running a hand through Mickey’s black hair.

            He waited patiently for Mickey to turn towards him, but he didn’t. He lowered his lips to Mickey’s shoulder, but Mickey didn’t move. Fear ran through him like a train approaching a break in the tracks much too fast and he breathed heavily in the darkness, pulling away from Mickey.

            Moving around to the other side of the bed, he kneeled down in front of him and pulled the covers from around his face. Mickey blinked at him in the darkness, his eyes hidden from the light. Ian reached forward and brushed dried tears from the one cheek he could reach.

            _“Hey,”_ Ian signed, pulling back. He rested his elbows against the edge of the bed and tried to think of something to say _. “I’m sorry.”_

            Mickey said nothing. His hands were tied up in the covers, pulling them still closer to his face as he stared at Ian. His breathing came unsteadily as if his body still wanted to shake but the only part of him he couldn’t stop from doing so was his lungs.

            Ian brushed a hand through his hair and then pulled back. He was determined to say nothing out loud, not to make Mickey read his lips. _“You okay? You want anything?”_

            Ian licked his lips and crawled back into the bed. He slipped under the covers, shifting close to Mickey, letting his warm breath be the only heat in the space. He rested his nose against Mickey’s, but hesitated, pulling back from kissing him.

            Closing his eyes, he pulled Mickey closer to him, wrapping his body around him as if somehow that could make him feel safer. Mickey was still for a moment and then wrapped his arms around Ian, hugging him tightly. His lips dipped to Ian’s shoulder, pressing warmly against the base of his neck.

            A shudder went through Mickey, so violent it made Ian jump. He held tighter to his boyfriend, brushing a hand through his hair in the darkness, trying hard not to cry himself.


	63. Chapter 63

Ian rolled out of bed early the next morning and walked out into the kitchen. He closed the door behind him, feeling sticky from dried tears and sweat. A cold breeze wound its way through the apartment from the open metal door, which creaked in the wind.

            He headed towards the open door, stepping out onto the metal walkway to see Mandy leaning against the railing, a cigarette burning between her fingers. She glanced back at him without a smile and said, “How is he?”

            Ian shrugged. “I don’t know.”

            She nodded, taking a drag on the cigarette. Blowing out smoke, she cursed and said, “I shouldn’t have insisted. It’s not like my brothers cared about seeing us at all. We could’ve gotten out of their scot-free.”

            “Well, you would’ve had to eat Debbie’s pie,” Ian attempted, but she didn’t smile. He shook his head. “It’s not your fault your dad’s an asshole. And it’s not your fault Mick’s first instinct is to protect you.”

            “It is,” she said. “If I’d never told him anything...” She bent her head down, tilting dangerously over the edge of the railing, and then pulled back onto the heels of her socked feet. Shaking her head, she said, “If he didn’t know, he wouldn’t take on Terry. Before mom died, that was always his strategy. To avoid him.”

            “Not your fault,” Ian repeated, even though he wasn’t sure he quite believed it. Mickey had only gone to protect her and now he was catatonic.

            “First time Mickey got into it with dad,” Mandy said, licking her lips. “Well, maybe not the first. But the first time he actually tried to talk to him, out loud, because Terry never bothered to learn ASL, he got beaten worse for it than he usually did for signing.”

            Ian bit his bottom lip hard enough that he tasted blood. He swallowed the metallic taste, trying not to think about the tender red bruises forming on Mickey’s cheeks. He took the cigarette from Mandy and swallowed too much smoke.

            “How long’s he gonna be down?”

            Mandy shook her head. “Usually he’s mute until dad leaves and then... then it’s a couple a days before he signs and a little longer before he’ll speak.” She took the cigarette back. “He doesn’t like to speak that much anyways and Terry... for the longest time, Terry had him convinced that his voice was the worst thing anyone had ever heard.”

            “So if he’s not around Terry...”

            “A week, maybe?” Mandy said. She shrugged. “He hit him. What else? What’d he say?”

            Ian shook his head. “Just asked how he was doin’, if he missed him... Does he think Mick can hear him if he’s shouting?”

            “He always shouts,” she replied. “But, yeah, he’s louder around Mick. Used to say he was only deaf because he wasn’t ‘trying hard enough’. Neglects the fact that if he wasn’t starving mom Mick would be fine and he’d beat ‘im just as much as any of his other children.” She paused, shaking her head. She looked sick. “Why am I such an idiot?”

            “It’s not your fault,” Ian said slowly, this time believing it himself. He wrapped an arm around Mandy, pulling her close so that their hips bumped together. Goosebumps were rising on his skin. “Mick will be okay.”

            She bit her bottom lip. “You really think so?”

            Ian nodded. “Probably a shock going back to that for him, but... yeah. Yeah, he’ll bounce back and he’ll be fine and you’ll just... never go back when that asshole’s out of jail ever again.”

            Mandy forced a laugh. “Sounds like a good plan.”

            He dropped his arm. “You okay?”

            She nodded, dragging on the last of the cigarette until it burned her fingers. She dropped the stub and kicked it through the grating of the walkway. “I left that place for a reason. And now I know there’s no reason to go back.”

            Ian nodded again and turned at a sound in the kitchen. He looked through the open doorway to see Mickey rummaging around in the kitchen, looking for food. He waited for him to turn and then signed, _“All good?”_

            Pursing his lips, Mickey nodded and turned back to the fridge. He grabbed a beer and headed back to his room, slamming the door behind him.

            “I should go back,” Ian said, glancing at Mandy apologetically.

            “I’m fine,” she insisted.

            He gave her one last squeeze and then walked back into the apartment, following Mickey into his own personal darkness.


	64. Chapter 64

Mickey gradually got better. After a day, Ian got him to turn a light on. A day and a half and he finally got him to eat something. And late Saturday night he signed his first words.

            Of course, those words were _“shut up”_ and then he went back to how he had been shutting Ian up over the last two days and kissed him.

            Ian was loathe to allow Mickey to shut him up that way, but was powerless to stop it. Mickey had a way of starting his kisses slow and friendly, as if he expected to stop at any moment to give Ian an answer. Or pour out his entire soul. And then one of his hands would run down the length of Ian’s chest, tickling across his ribs, his fingers fitting into every nook in his body.

            And Ian was the one to speed it up, to press further into the kiss, bringing his tongue into Mickey’s mouth. Their kisses were hot and sweaty and had no taste –their taste buds already burned off where they would detect the others’ taste.

            Pulling Mickey closer to him, Ian felt the sheets catch between them. The two of them were so hopelessly intertwined with the bed that their legs were tied in knots. Knots that were the only things keeping the sheets on the bed. Ian struggled out of them, rolling on top of Mickey, leaning down so that their chests touched as they kissed.

            He let his hands slip off of Mickey, moving down to pull the sheets off of his legs. He could feel Mickey laughing at his struggle and he pulled back just far enough to give him a look. Mickey kept smiling, so Ian rose off of him, still struggling with the sheets around his feet, making his uncovered crotch the only thing touching Mickey.

            Rocking forward, he grinded against Mickey’s hip, causing him to bite his lips to stop a groan. He got the sheets off his feet, tossed them onto the floor and then sucked on two of his fingers. He moved his hands under Mickey, kneading his ass, and then inserted his fingers into Mickey’s ass crack, relishing the feeling of his boyfriend shuddering beneath him. He pulled them out slowly.

            Carefully, he lowered himself back down, keeping their eyes locked as their skin started to touch. Their hips to the skin at their waists to their chests until his lips were just a breath away, their noses rubbing together. If Ian breathed wrong, they would kiss, and the buzzing anticipation in the air would be gone.

            He licked his lips, his tongue brushing against Mickey’s skin. He kneaded Mickey’s ass as Mickey pulled him closer, his fingers skittering up and down Ian’s sides. He tickled the spots between his ribs, creating cold space between them with his hands. Their eyes never left each other as Ian started rutting against Mickey, his lips ebbing closer and then further away as he moved.

            _“Lube,”_ Mickey signed as Ian got very close to slipping inside of him.

            Ian winced his apology and pulled back, hating every inch of him that left Mickey behind, and reached for the drawer. He pulled it open and looked inside, mentally counting all the combinations they’d been through. Glancing back at Mickey, he signed, _“What’s next?”_

            He thought about it for a moment, his brows furrowing over lidded eyes. _“I think... blue raspberry and... Fire & Ice.”_

_“Sounds painful.”_

_“Better than no lube,”_ Mickey replied with a pointed look.

            Ian rolled his eyes as he opened the lid on the blue raspberry lube and stuck his fingers into it. He spread his knees, pushing against the insides of Mickey’s thighs, and ran his fingers down the inside of Mickey’s ass. Mickey shuddered at the cold, but said nothing as Ian bit open a condom and rolled it onto his hard cock.

            Looking down at Mickey, Ian brushed his fingers over the length of his stomach, feeling the warmth of his body. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Mickey cocked an eyebrow at him with a smirk and Ian bit down on his smile before thrusting into Mickey hard, without warning.

            Mickey groaned loudly and Ian pulled out slowly, going back in with ease, playing off the few edges of friction the lube left for him. He pulsed against Mickey, all his muscles tight, as he thrust forward and pulled back, breathing deeply, steadily. Trying to keep himself in line.

            He moved one hand to Mickey’s cock, rubbing up and down slowly, trying to get him to speed up. But Mickey licked his lips, giving him a look that said he could hold back all night and Ian slowed painstakingly. He slid out inch by inch, pulling before thrusting back in fast, making the motions of his hips at odds with those of his hand.

            Still Mickey shook his head at Ian, unwilling to give up.

            Ian twisted his hips, trying to find the exact right spot, knowing he knew where it was. Mickey held his breath as Ian moved around, thrusting unevenly and without much force, then pulling out at the speed of a snail.

            He pushed forward one last time and Mickey gasped. Smiling, Ian knew he had found the spot, and aimed for it, thrusting back and forth at an even rhythm, slowing only when he felt Mickey tense in his hand. Then Mickey groaned at him, giving him a look, and signed, _“Speed the fuck up.”_

            Ian shook his head. He pulled his hands back from Mickey, rocking back and forth slowly. _“You wanted to take your time,”_ he replied, teasingly. He couldn’t hold back much longer either, not when Mickey smiled at him like that, and every inch of him was on fire.

            _“Like you could last.”_

            Ian smirked, then thrust hard and fast, rocking Mickey back and forth. Mickey reached for Ian’s hips, his fingers digging into his smooth skin. Every inch of Ian’s body tensed and his breath caught in his throat. Mickey came first, his groan rising to a scream. Ian came a few seconds later, breathing heavily.

            Slipping out, Ian collapsed on top of Mickey. All of him was sticky and sweaty and the sheets beneath him weren’t much better. Mickey was still half groaning, the sound lazy in the darkness of the room.

            Ian rolled to the side before looking back at Mickey, who had his eyes closed. Then one blue eye popped open, looking at Ian warily, as if he was afraid Ian was going to go right back to trying to talk about what happened and he was going to have to distract him once again.

            Ian signed, _“That’s it.”_

_“What’s it?”_

            He gestured towards the drawer beside him as he peeled off the condom _. “That’s the last combination.”_

_“Bullshit.”_ Mickey propped himself up on an elbow and reached across Ian, pulling the drawer open. He stared at it for a moment, his lips moving wordlessly as he did a quick calculation in his head. Then he looked down at Ian. _“That can’t be right.”_

            Ian shrugged and let out a deep, defeated sigh. _“Guess we can’t have sex anymore.”_

_“Fuck off.”_

_“Nope. No more combinations. We’re all done. Nothing fun about it anymore.”_

            Mickey pressed his lips together hard to stop from smiling. He nodded slowly, looking down at Ian, and then said, _“We could just buy more lube.”_

            Ian laughed and Mickey spread his hands across his chest to feel the sound. Ian sat up and kissed Mickey again, their tongues sliding together slowly before Mickey twisted his and pulled Ian back down into the bed.


	65. Chapter 65

Shaking Mickey’s shoulder, Ian looked down at him from where he was standing at the side of the bed. He shook him hard, rumbling the mattress with his knee, resisting the urge to say something.

            Slowly, Mickey’s eyes blinked open.

            _“Get up,”_ Ian signed.

            Mickey blinked again, looking Ian up and down. He frowned as he looked over Ian’s fully dressed body and the backpack slung over his shoulder. Rolling over onto his back, he signed, _“Let me sleep.”_

            Ian sighed and grabbed Mickey’s shoulder. He didn’t budge. Ian crawled onto the bed, straddled Mickey, and looked down at him. _“I need you to drive us to school.”_

_“Take the bus.”_

_“Nope, you’re driving.”_

_“Good luck with that.”_

            Licking his lips, Ian dropped his eyes from Mickey’s to watch his own fingers skitter down Mickey’s chest. He ran his thumb across the band of skin right underneath the waistband of his boxers, his eyes flickering towards Mickey’s as he let out a small sound of pleasure.

            He slowly removed his hands and said, _“I could make it worth your while.”_

_“You make staying in bed worth my while,”_ Mickey replied, reaching up to grab the back of Ian’s neck.

            Ian backed away, sliding his knees across the side of Mickey’s legs to pull his underwear down. He bent his head to kiss the newly exposed skin slowly, feeling Mickey’s soft moans rumble through his body. He pulled back and looked up at Mickey again.

            _“Come on,”_ he signed. _“We have school.”_

_“I’m hard.”_

            Giving him a look, Ian bent back down and kissed the skin at the edge of Mickey’s boxers. He pulled down his underwear, his lips slipping beneath the fabric as he trailed lazy kisses down the length of his dick. Placing his mouth around the tip, he sucked for a moment, flicking his tongue back and forth, then let go to lick up the length of Mickey’s cock.

            Mickey shuddered, his hands reaching down to pull at Ian’s hair. Ian smiled against his skin and pressed his lips to the inside of Mickey’s left thigh. He spread his legs apart, listening to and feeling the groan run through his body before placing his mouth back around Mickey’s dick.

            Ian sucked slowly, taking his time moving up and down. He scraped his fingernails down the backs of Mickey’s thighs, causing his whole body to arch as Ian kissed his dick. Running his tongue up and down every side of Mickey’s cock, Ian stopped at the tip, teasing him, as he felt him ready to go beneath him.

            He paused, breathing heavily against Mickey’s sensitive skin. Mickey grumbled gibberish as Ian’s tongue tickled against the tip of his cock before his mouth wrapped around it.

            Moving slowly up and down his shaft, Ian sucked hard, twirling his tongue as he went. He did his best not to smile, but the scrape of his teeth made Mickey shudder as Ian got closer and closer to the base of his cock. He sped up, reminding himself that they had to go to school and that he didn’t have all day, and felt Mickey pull hair out of his scalp.

            Ian slipped his mouth from around Mickey’s dick and took a deep breath, feeling Mickey’s glare on the top of his head. He drew swirls with his fingers from the back of Mickey’s thighs to the base of his penis and then wrapped his hand around the shaft, moving up and down quickly while shifting forward to look Mickey in the eye.

            He smiled as Mickey bit his tongue, his expression a forced neutral. Ian lowered his lips to his, kissing him softly even as he moved his hand roughly, squeezing tightly around Mickey’s erection. Then he slid his tongue into Mickey’s mouth, curling it into circles worthy of a cherry stem knot and went harder until Mickey came.

            He wiped his hands off on the covers and then leaped out of bed so quickly Mickey couldn’t pull him back.  He signed, _“Let’s go.”_

_“Don’t you wanna turn?”_

            Ian shook his head, shifting uncomfortably around his erection, and smiled. He pulled the rest of the covers off of Mickey and said _, “Come on.”_

            Grumbling, Mickey turned his head towards him, the pillow hiding half of his face. _“What time is it?”_ he asked.

            _“Ten.”_ Ian signed.   _“And I’ve been up since six. So get your sexy ass out of bed and drive us to school.”_

_“You’ve been up since six?”_

_“Went for a run.”_

            Mickey stared at him for a moment and then rolled up into a sitting position. Ian moved away and dug through the closet for clothes. He threw some over his head towards Mickey, who dressed slowly. Then he slipped out of bed and stared at Ian for a second longer.

            _“You okay?”_ he asked.

            Ian snorted. _“You’re the one who’s been in bed for four days. Mandy’s waiting.”_

            He headed out into the kitchen, Mickey trailing behind him. Mandy looked up from the couch and stood, turning off the fuzzy screen. She yawned and signed, _“Well, would you look at Sleeping Beauty.”_

            Mickey flipped her off.

            The three of them headed down the stairs, Ian walking backwards and signing the whole way. He bumped into three people and apologized quickly to all of them, before going back to his constant conversation about nothing. Mickey smiled at him, rubbing sleep from his eyes, drinking in the distraction. Mandy yawned and looked away, watching the late rising sun in the sky.

            Mickey unlocked the car and Ian opened his door for him, smiling broadly. Mickey signed, _“You know, if you’re doing this to cheer me up, you can knock it the fuck off.”_

            Ian shot him a fake innocent expression. _“Doing what?”_

            Mickey shook his head at him, the corners of his lips turning up no matter how hard he tried to stop them. Ian slammed the door after him and then hopped in on the other side, clasping his hands together in his lap to stop himself from talking while Mickey drove. The engine of the new car was smooth and loud against the mid-morning traffic.

            As they came to a stop sign, Mandy’s head lolled against the backseat, her eyes closed. Mickey, looking in the rear-view mirror, signed, _“The fuck’s her problem?”_

            Ian shrugged. _“She wasn’t big on the run.”_

_“She went with you?”_

            He shrugged again as the car started through the light. He was blinking fatigue out of his eyes, buzzing with enough energy to go for a run again. Looking to his left, he smiled at Mickey grumpily driving them towards the school, out of bed for the first time since Thanksgiving.

            As they pulled into the parking lot, he gave him a kiss before rushing off to the coffee shop, already a few minutes late for the start of his shift.


	66. Chapter 66

Ian watched Mickey as he slept, his shoulders going up and down slowly. He pulled a cigarette from between his lips, the room filling with smoke. The clock blinked 2:06 just above Mickey’s head.

            Inhaling deeply, he put out the cigarette and lay back down beside Mickey. He pressed his lips to the back of his neck and slid himself into place around him, trying hard to close his eyes and keep them closed. He breathed in the smoke, grease, and alcohol that clung to Mickey’s skin and forced his heartbeat to slow.

            Still his lips were restless and they kissed the spot on Mickey’s neck just below the last wisps of his hair. And they moved over across his shoulder, tickling his skin and making him move uneasily in his sleep. Ian slid up closer behind him, trying to stop him from moving, and was rewarded with a breathless, sleepy laugh from his boyfriend.

            With a fake-annoyed groan, Mickey rolled around carefully to face Ian. His blue eyes were cloudy, sleep crusting at their edges and wrinkling around their turns. He pulled his hands out from under the covers and signed, _“Again?”_

_“Can’t sleep,”_ Ian replied.

            Mickey shook his head and kissed him, his lips numb beneath Ian’s. Ian slid his tongue into his mouth, scraping against Mickey’s, stopping only when he felt him pulling back. He paused, a curious look in his eyes, and watched as Mickey’s eyes slowly flickered back open.

            _“Tired,”_ Mickey signed.

            Ian nodded like he understood and waited for Mickey to close his eyes. Then he reached under the covers and ran his fingers along Mickey’s waist. A ghost of a smile appeared on Mickey’s lips. He tickled harder, causing Mickey’s whole body to spasm, and then reached his other hand over to get in on the action.

            Mickey’s eyes popped open and he bit down on his lip to stop himself from laughing. He rolled up over Ian, grabbing for his hands, and finally got a hold of them in order to pin them down above Ian’s head. Breathing hard, he looked down at him, black hair hanging in his face.

            Ian smiled up at him and then arched his back, bucking Mickey off balance. He wriggled his arms, not able to get his fingers out of Mickey’s, and rolled them over to the edge of the bed. One of Mickey’s legs hung off the side, swinging precariously over the edge as Ian bent down over him and kissed him hard.

            Mickey relaxed under him, falling into the kiss. His grip on Ian’s hands relaxed and Ian tangled his fingers into his black hair. He wrapped his other arm under Mickey’s hips, pulling his body towards him, the skin of their torsos sliding hotly together.

            Then Mickey’s fingers found the spot just behind Ian’s knee and tickled. Ian kicked his leg, sticking it far into the mattress, and Mickey squeezed his legs hard around his knee. He tickled mercilessly, his other hand at the base of Ian’s back. Ian’s lips slipped from his and he struggled out of Mickey’s grasp, rolling away from him and back onto the bed.

            The two of them looked towards each other and Ian raised his hands to ward Mickey off. Mickey smirked, then let go of his laugh, the sound ringing through the night air and instantly calming every live nerve in Ian’s body. He smiled over at him and signed, _“You suck.”_

_“You started it,”_ Mickey replied.

            Ian moved his head forward on the pillows, angling his body away from Mickey. He kissed him softly, the sleep on Mickey’s lips slowly becoming his own. Sighing, he stopped his lips, and looked into Mickey’s eyes. The entire world was quiet again, the only sound the echo of Mickey’s laugh bouncing off of the walls.

            Mickey took a deep breath, the heat of him fluttering across Ian’s neck. His lips moved, as if he wanted to form words, but wasn’t quite ready for them. Ian reached out and caressed his cheek, his fingers brushing against Mickey’s rough skin. His eyes were fluttering closed, nearly ready for sleep, when he heard Mickey’s voice for the first time in almost a week.

            “I love you.”

            His eyes shot open and locked with his favourite blue eyes. He didn’t even mind the shattered edge of his calm, his heart picking up to the pace of the butterflies beating in his stomach as he let the words wash over him.

            _“I love you too,”_ he signed and then he moved forward, closing the space between them with a kiss as his brain fogged over with sleepy happiness.

            Their knees knocked together, both of them pulling themselves back onto the bed. Slowly, their lips parted, and Mickey turned back around so Ian could slide up behind him. He pressed his lips once again at the base of Mickey’s neck, his heart flooding with happiness so bright he was sure that’s why he was no longer tired.

            He listened to Mickey’s breathing, matching his to it so that their shoulders moved up and down together, and closed his eyes. He drifted off eventually, waking too early, and spent most of the night simply watching the man he loved sleep.


	67. Chapter 67

“Today’s the last day of classes, right?” Ian asked.

            Mandy looked up at him, stopping dead in the middle of her sentence to address the non-sequitur. “Uh, yeah,” she said, hiking her bag up on her shoulder. “Exams start, like, middle of next week, maybe?”

            “We should have a party.”

            She laughed but stopped when she looked up at him. “You’re serious?”

            Ian nodded and said, “Yeah. We’ve been here three fucking months and haven’t been to a single party. Doesn’t that seem weird to you?”

            “I mean, you spend all your time in bed so-”

            He hip-checked her as they walked along the sidewalk,  shaking his head. “Mickey’s doing better. He spoke to me last night.”

            Mandy smiled, her eyes glittering. “Really?”

            Ian nodded. “So I was thinking, today’s the last day of classes and we have tomorrow off, so we throw a party tomorrow and invite everyone we know and-”

            “We don’t know anyone.”

            “We invite everyone who comes into the shop today,” Ian said as he opened the doors to the cafe. “And we spend tomorrow buying supplies and then we throw a huge end-of-the-semester party at your apartment.”

            Mandy made a face as she walked behind the counter to grab their aprons. Tossing one to Ian, she said, “Don’t think the apartment’s big enough.”

            “Then we use the walkways. The roof. Not like your landlord’s gonna listen to any complaints.” He stared at her for a moment and she shrugged. “So you’re in?”

            “I guess.”

            Ian smiled and gave her a tight hug before stepping behind the cash register to start his shift. As he worked, his thoughts raced around the party planning and the supplies and what he needed to do. He cut down his guest list and invited only the people he recognized when they came up to him, whether he knew their names or not. He could feel Mandy watching him the whole time, but dismissed her concern.

            He got through the day and his classes, excitedly explaining the party plan to Mickey during History class. Mickey gave him an odd look, his eyes over-focussed on the movement of his hands as he talked, but nodded at the end of it all without a comment.

            And Ian spent most of the night awake, working through his plans for the party. He woke Mickey early the next morning and forced him to drive him to several different stores. He piled supplies –cups, ice, and alcohol– into the back of the car and then dragged them up the metal stairs before stuffing the fridge past its capacity.

            _“How many people are you expecting?”_ Mickey signed when he slammed the freezer door on the last bag of ice. It gave a sickening crunch.

            _“I don’t know,”_ Ian replied. _“Some kids from Psych, regulars from the coffee house, I invited that guy you don’t hate from History, umm... the girls from Mandy’s Women’s Studies course, our math study group... maybe some people from English? I invited whoever I saw really. And texted a bunch of people.”_

            Mickey stared at him for a long moment. _“When’s it start?”_

            Ian glanced at the clock. _“Not ‘til eight.”_

_“And what’re you gonna do until then?”_

_“You.”_

            Mickey’s only reaction to the joke was to blink. Ian smiled broadly, walked around the counter, and kissed him hard. He pulled back and signed, _“Come on. You got a better offer?”_

_“Several.”_

            Ian’s smile only grew as he pushed Mickey back towards the bedroom.

***

            The music pounded so loudly that the apartment shook. Ian shoved through the crowd, yelling greetings at people he didn’t know and refilling drinks when needed. He kept a smile on his face, his entire body shaking with the rhythm of the bass.

            The cold air ran through the apartment and kept everything relatively cool despite the heat of too many bodies packed too close together. He had ditched his phone somewhere after it had buzzed with a fifth call that he couldn’t answer due to the noise. Mickey was lost somewhere in the crowd, wincing at the vibrations.

            Ian passed Mandy and pulled the beer from her hands, giving her a look when she protested that told her exactly why he was doing it. She flipped him off before going back to flirting with the guy in front of her. Ian wrapped his arm around the shoulders of the guy and yelled in his ear, “You hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

            He smiled as he walked away, the guy looking at him in shock. He raised the beer high in the air before turning around and taking a swig from it. The wind stung the bare skin of his arms, reacting with his sweat, but he ignored the sensation as he walked.

            He headed up to the roof, where a few people were milling about and the music was quieter. His ears rang in the relative silence and he walked to the edge of the building, sipping on Mandy’s half-empty beer.

            Cars raced by on the street below, doing their best to get out of the neighbourhood as fast as possible. One backfired. Or a gun went off. People milled about in the street, staying in the shadows, beckoning to those who walked in the light of the sidewalk.

            Ian closed his eyes against the noise, letting it wash through him and quiet his racing thoughts. The noise of his party enveloped him, causing him to sway with the vibrations of the music. His toes crept over the edge of the building, feeling free without the concrete beneath them.

            Opening his eyes, he found his balance and hung one foot over the edge of the roof. He swayed slightly, took another swig of beer, and then moved his leg back and forth over the open air. He laughed, the sound louder than the rest of the party, echoing back into his own ears.

            He emptied the rest of the beer and stumbled back from the roof’s edge, only registering the hand on his arm once he was on solid ground. Turning around, he saw Mickey glaring at him.

            _“The fuck, Ian?”_ Mickey signed. His lips were pressed into a thin white line.

            _“It’s a party, Mick!”_

            Mickey frowned _. “Yeah, a party. The definition of a party isn’t ‘some drunk idiot falls off a building’ in case you were wondering.”_

            Ian rolled his eyes. _“I’m not drunk. I had, like, half of this.”_

            Mickey grabbed the bottle from him and threw it on the ground. The glass shattered behind him, causing several people on the roof to jump and squeal. _“But you don’t fucking drink.”_

_“It’s a party.”_

_“What the fuck is wrong with you?”_

            Rolling his eyes, Ian took Mickey by the shoulders and said aloud, very slowly, “It’s. A. Party.”

            Mickey shook him off and took a step back. Fear flickered through his blue eyes and Ian resisted the urge to scoff at him. _“I’m going to bed,”_ Mickey signed. He shot Ian one last warning glance _. “Try not to fall off the fucking roof.”_

            Ian saluted him and waited until he turned around to roll his eyes again. He stepped further away from the edge of the roof, headed down the ladder, and went back to the kitchen to get another beer. He ended up drinking with a couple of guys from his Psychology class, half keeping an eye on Mandy until he saw her disappear into her bedroom with a guy in tow.

            He glanced towards Mickey’s closed door and felt a pang in his stomach as he thought of him alone in the dark, trying to sleep through the vibrations. Then he remembered shouting at him on the roof and winced internally before downing the rest of his beer. Maybe a party so soon after he had gotten Mickey out of bed hadn’t been the best idea after all. His heart thudded hollowly in his chest.

            Slipping away from the group, he did a round of the apartment building and then tried to push everyone out of the apartment itself. He managed to get everyone out onto the walkways and shut the sliding metal door behind him. He slid supplies and drinks out of the apartment as needed and continued to host until the party wound down very early in the morning.

            Ian left the last few stragglers outside and turned off the music. He dragged the cooler back through the door and then shut it, turning the locks. As he turned towards Mickey’s room, the door opened and Mickey leaned against the doorframe sleepily.

            _“Coming to bed now?”_ he signed.

            Ian met his eyes and swallowed when he saw the annoyance there. He walked across the apartment, pulled Mickey forward by the fabric of his muscle shirt, and kissed him. He whispered, “I’m sorry.”

            Mickey nodded and Ian kissed him again, pushing him back into the bedroom.


	68. Chapter 68

The bacon sizzled in the pan in front of Ian. He flipped three pancakes in a row, humming to himself. A buzz sounded through the apartment and he paused for a moment. He turned down the burners and left the food, searching through the room for the vibrating phone.

            He found his phone lying diagonally against the leg of the kitchen table. He picked it up just as the call went through to voicemail. Fiona. Sixteen missed calls. Nine voicemails. Thirty-seven text messages. With a frown, he headed back over to the stove and checked on the food before calling her back.

            The first ring barely finished before she picked up. “Ian,” she said, breathless. Then, before he could say anything, she asked, “Are you okay?”

            “Fine,” he said, turning around the spatula to scramble the eggs in the next pan. He winced at himself, realizing he had meant to fry them.

            Fiona was silent for a long moment. “You sure?”

            “Yeah. Why’d you call so many times?”

            He listened to her silence, balancing the phone against his shoulder and holding it there with his ear. Turning, he opened the fridge and pulled out a block of cheese so he could shred some into the eggs.

            “Ian...” she started slowly. He could feel her tension through the phone, but continued cooking happily until she sighed. “Are you taking your meds?”

            “My...” He paused, looking down at the food in front of him. He checked the clock and said, “Shit.”

            “You told me not to worry and I was trying not to worry while you were at Mickey’s because I knew you’ve been there all the time, taking your meds and I didn’t wanna bug you about it. But Dr. Connor called last night and said you didn’t show up for your appointment and you weren’t answering your phone and...” Fiona finally managed to cut herself off long enough to breathe. He could hear her rattling the bottles of his medication on the other end of the line. “You’re okay, right?”

            Ian nodded, staring at the now burning food. Then, realizing she couldn’t see him, said, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just...” He forced a laugh and it rang loudly throughout the room. “I’m making breakfast at seven in the fucking morning.”

            “But you’re safe?”

            He nodded again. “I’ll be home in an hour.”

            Hanging up the phone, he turned off the burners, tried to stop himself from shaking. He backed away from the stove, glanced at the clock again. It’s numbers blinked back at him like an accusation. If he closed his eyes, he could hear the mumblings of Mickey and Mandy’s sleep in the other rooms. Sleeping because they had all gone to bed less than three hours ago.

            He heaved out a deep breath as his eyes flickered to the door to Mickey’s room. His heart pounded to a sickening beat as he thought about the boy on the other side of it. The blue eyes that would look up at him blearily if he went in to say goodbye. The hands that would ask him what was wrong, what was happening, why he had nearly fallen off a building last night.

            Tears prickled Ian’s eyes as he stepped away from the door. He swallowed the bile in his throat, realizing that Mickey had known something was wrong before he had himself. He ran a hand across his face, trying to force himself to breathe, and then stumbled out of the apartment. He closed the sliding door as quietly as he could manage and then rattled down the stairs as slowly as he could before turning towards the bus stop.

            He crossed his arms against his chest, squeezing the fabric of his t-shirt into his body to keep him warmer. His jeans hung unzipped off his hips. He closed his eyes tightly, equal parts of him wanting the bus to come quickly and wishing that it would never come at all. But when it did, he couldn’t stop himself from pacing up and down the aisle. He got off at the main terminal and slowly turned towards the bus heading out to Chicago.

            He texted Fiona when he got on the bus, fumbling over the words he needed to send. He got her the information, telling her when he’d be home, but struggled to form an apology. An apology that he knew she knew was coming when she texted back, _it’s okay._ His eyes shifted to the red dot above the phone icon and all the voicemails she had left. Fingers shaking, he pressed the button, and forced himself to listen to her rising panic. His thoughts raced faster than he could keep up with, twisting her voice into words of worry over him running away. Wondering if this was worse or better since now she knew what had happened.

            Stepping off the bus, he shuffled his feet all the way to his house and hesitated before opening the back door. Fiona beat him to the punch and stepped out into the cold to hug him, squeezing so tightly he thought she might break bones.

            “I’m okay,” he whispered. “I’m okay.”

            She pulled him into the house, sitting him down on one of the stools, and then set all three pill bottles in front of him. She filled a glass of water and slid it towards him. He tipped a pill out of every bottle and then swallowed them all at once, glugging down every last drop of the water. She pulled back the bottles, lining them up next to the empty weekly boxes.

            “I’m sorry,” Ian mumbled.

            Fiona looked up and shook her head. Taking back the glass, she said, “As long as you’re okay, it’s fine.”

            “How scared were you?”

            She smiled softly. “I knew you were okay.”

            “Really?”

            Nodding, she came around to the other side of the counter and sat on the stool next to him. She reached around and rubbed his shoulder, knocking into his side playfully. “What happened?” she asked.

            He shook his head. “I have no idea. Mickey was upset and I was scared and he needed me, so I was there for him. And I guess I sorta forgot that I needed to take care of myself too.”

            “Speaking from experience,” Fiona replied, “it’s always better if you take care of yourself first.” She paused and asked, “How are you feeling?”

            Ian swallowed his laugh and shrugged instead. “I feel fine. I feel incredible and alive and like... like everything in my life was in black and white before this. I could probably run a fucking marathon without throwing up.” He was quiet for a second and then he added, “But I feel terrible for worrying you, for freaking out Mickey... for not feeling worse.”

            “Hey, that’s fine. You know that’s fine.”

            He nodded silently.

            Fiona let out a big sigh and got up off the stool, patting him on the back. “Okay, I’m gonna call Dr. Connor, see if he’ll see you even though it’s Saturday, and you’ve got your blood test later, and then everything will be back on track. There’s a couple of days before your first exam, so no worries. Everything’s gonna be fine by then.”

            Ian stared at her for a long moment and then set his head down against the cold counter. He groaned. “I am such an idiot.” And immediately Fiona started denying it, her hand going to the back of his neck and smoothing down the hair that stuck up there. He looked up, his chin rubbing against the counter, and he whispered, “I just thought I was in love.”

            He watched as his sister’s expression fell then buried his head back in his arms. Her hand stilled against the back of his neck, its warmth his only comfort as the words floated around in his too fast thoughts. He wanted to shut down completely until the meds started working again. Forget what it felt like to be off of them, even for a week, safe inside the walls of Mickey’s apartment.

            After a few minutes, Fiona pulled her hand back and asked, “You want some breakfast?”

            “Too early.”

            “We’ll get started,” she said, tapping him on the arm until he looked up. She gave him a big, fake smile and handed him a whisk. “We’ll do a big family breakfast. Celebrate the end of the semester and how well you did.”

            Ian stared at her for a moment and then slowly moved from the stool. His body was up for it, ready to start moving again, believing it had been sitting for too long. His brain was at war with itself, half of it bouncing off the inside of his skull, begging to be let free to do whatever the hell it wanted, and the other half yelling at it to calm down, that it was just the illness, that what he really needed to do was lie down and go to sleep.


	69. Chapter 69

Ian was slow to wake the next morning, his brain stuck in a fog as the medication tried its best to fix him. He stumbled down the stairs, smiling weakly when Fiona nudged his pills toward him, trying not to resent her for it. He swallowed them despite his arms feeling like lead and wanting to go straight back to sleep. He swallowed them even though he felt worse today than he had all last week.

            _Just the process_ , he reminded himself.

            He looked down at his phone and ignored yet another text from Mickey. He knew he owed him some sort of explanation over why he had left, even if it was just some bullshit excuse, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie to him. Or to tell him the truth. Or to even reply and pretend that everything was okay when he was no longer sure whether or not he had told him the truth when he had whispered those three little words.

            Fiona slid a plate of food in front of him and he ate it, listening to the conversation around him. Carl was complaining that Lip and Ian were done school, so he should be done school too, and he didn’t understand how he had two and a half weeks of school left when Lip was claiming he would be done completely by the end of the week. Lip’s response was “Life sucks and then you die.” Debbie was busy texting, laughing whenever her phone buzzed.

            Ian finished eating and headed back up to his room, yawning the whole way. Fiona yelled after him but he ignored her, curling back up in his covers and falling asleep.

            He awoke two hours later to Liam jumping up and down on the bottom of his bed. When Ian looked up, Liam stopped and signed, _“Debbie wants to talk to you.”_

            Looking to the side, he saw Debbie standing beside the bed, her arms crossed. She loosened them to sign, _“We’re going to lunch.”_

_“Everyone?”_

            She shook her head. _“Just us. Get up. Meet me downstairs.”_

            She motioned for Liam to follow her and he jumped down from the bed, scrambling after her out of the room. Ian hesitated a moment, considered closing his eyes again, but he knew he hadn’t spoken to Debbie in a long time. And in a way, she was largely his responsibility around here.

            So he rolled out of bed, got dressed, and headed downstairs counting the cash in his pocket. He let Debbie lead the way out of the door and down the street towards Patsy’s Pies. He winced at the sight of the place, remembering that he hadn’t actually talked to Sean since being fired. But none of the waitresses mentioned a thing as they entered and took a booth near the centre of the diner.

            As soon as Debbie sat down, her phone buzzed and she picked it up with a smile. She texted back quickly before setting it down on the table. She glanced at it several times as she signed, _“How are you?”_

_“Good,”_ Ian lied. _“How are you?”_ He ignored his own buzzing phone.

            _“Good.”_

_“Sheila’s good?”_

            Debbie nodded. _“It took a while to get her to actually work with me instead of against me in the social scheme of things, but she’s learning. And, I mean, I guess it’s fun to have someone around that I can talk to. Like a mom.”_

_“So things with Fiona-”_

_“Fine. But she’s my sister, you know?”_

            Ian nodded, biting his bottom lip. _“So it’s been... okay that I haven’t been around?”_

_“Not nearly as bad as last time,”_ Debbie replied. She shrugged. _“Plus, you’ve been around. You come home and you talk to me and you seem a lot happier than you used to be. And I like Mickey.”_

            A smile itched at Ian’s lips. _“You do?”_

            She nodded and turned to the waitress to give her order aloud. Jackie wrote everything down before turning to Ian and taking his order, then collecting their menus. When she was gone, Debbie was back to smiling at her phone, and replied quickly before setting it to the side.

            _“How’s Derek?”_ Ian asked.

            She shrugged.

            _“That’s all I get?”_

            Rolling her eyes, she replied, _“You’re starting to sound like Fiona.”_

            His smile widened. _“Sorry.”_

_“Derek’s good. He’s... nice.”_

_“Nice?”_

            Debbie rolled her eyes again and glanced down at her phone as it buzzed. She looked back at Ian, shrugging, and signed, _“He’s a good boyfriend. He likes me, he’s my age, he’s learning sign language...”_ She stopped talking to text back and then added, _“You’d like him.”_

            Ian said _, “Am I allowed to meet him?”_

_“Only if you promise not to embarrass me.”_

            He smiled and thanked Jackie as she came by with drinks. He sipped on his Coke as Debbie texted, then pulled out his own phone as it started to buzz continuously. Mandy was calling him.

            Declining the call, he turned off the phone and threw it to the side of the table. Debbie set her phone down, then glanced at his, and asked, _“You talk to Mick?”_

            He shook his head.

            _“Not even to tell ‘im you’re okay?”_

            Ian’s stomach curled as he looked down at the dark phone screen, his thoughts spinning through the fog of his mind. Slowly, he shook his head and gave Debbie a look telling her to drop it. She switched subjects miraculously quickly and asked _, “How are you and Lip?”_

            He shrugged _. “Fine.”_

_“You worked out the whole Mandy thing?”_

            Giving her a look, he asked, _“Why?”_

_“Karen’s here.”_

            Ian glanced back over his shoulder and saw her walking in the door, Hymie at her hip. She set him down on top of one of the stools and slid onto the one beside him, picking up a menu. She didn’t even glance their way, just checked her phone and sent someone a quick text.

            Debbie shrugged when he looked back at her. _“And she might be meeting Lip.”_

            Ian shrugged and turned the conversation towards Debbie’s classes. She took the turn well enough, pausing to answer her texts several times and sending several pointed glances at Ian’s phone. He took it off the table as the food came, shoving it back into his pocket, and let the conversation fall away as they ate.

            His eyes were drooping by the time they finished and he paid in a sort of haze. He and Debbie walked back to the house, Ian dragging his feet, and she stayed quiet, grabbing his hand when he slowed to a near stop. They got back to the house and Ian bent to kiss her on the head before heading back to bed.


	70. Chapter 70

Nervously, Ian turned his phone back on a little less than forty-eight hours later and set it down on the counter. He stepped away from it, swallowing his pills as he stared at it, waiting for it to explode. And after warming up for a few minutes, it started buzzing like crazy, spasming violently across the counter.

            He took a step back and forced himself to breathe deeply. Every inch of him was tired and looking at the phone felt like listening to Fiona’s voicemails all over again. And he wasn’t sure how much pain he could handle in his current state. Or, worse, if he would feel the pain he had caused at all.

            As he stared, Fiona came into the room. She shot him a worried look but said nothing as she headed for the fridge and pulled out a jug of orange juice. She asked, “You want some breakfast? Kids already went to school, but I could make something quickly.”

            Ian didn’t respond.

            She stepped back from the fridge, trying to get a glimpse of her brother’s face. “Ian?”

            He glanced towards her and felt his stomach rumble with hunger. Weakly, he nodded, and she pulled him into the kitchen, beginning a conversation about what he wanted to make with what they had. She was good about trying not to look worried, but it shone out of every inch of her, causing her voice to shake as she turned to Ian and saw his neutral expression.

            Just then, his phone buzzed again and he jumped.

            “Hey, what’s wrong?” Fiona asked, grabbing his shoulder.

            He shook his head. “Nothing. I just...” He closed his eyes, swallowing hard. Feeling like an incompetent child, he asked, “Can you check my phone?”

            She nodded, her eyes locked on his as she reached for it. She flicked through the notifications on the front screen, licking her lips, and then looked up at Ian. “It’s Mickey.”

            “Just Mickey?”

            “A couple of calls from Mandy, a few voicemails... but all the texts are from Mickey.”

            Ian nodded, staring at the phone in her hand. She offered it to him but he took a step back. “Can you just... can you tell him something? Or just tell him to stop texting? I can’t... I can’t deal with it right now.”

            “Umm... yeah,” she said, staring at him for a moment before opening up the phone. She hesitated a moment and then started typing. Ian didn’t know what she said, but it was long. And when she hit send, she stared at the screen until she got a response. “He wants to know if you’re okay.”

            Ian nodded.

            Fiona’s fingers hesitated over the keys. “You sure you don’t wanna tell him yourself?”

            “What’d you say to him?”

            “Just...” She looked down at the screen and read from it. “‘Hey, Mick. It’s Fiona, Ian’s sister. There’s been a bit of a family emergency, but everything’s okay. He’s a little busy right now and doesn’t have the time to get to his phone, but wants you to know that you shouldn’t worry. He’ll talk to you in a few days.’”

            “And he asked if I’m all right?”

            She nodded.

            Ian bit his bottom lip for a long moment before reaching for the phone. He kept himself from scrolling up to read the previous texts and typed, _He’s fine._

            _Anything I can do?_

He hesitated, looking at the words, trying to picture Mickey signing the question to him. He closed his eyes and handed the phone back to Fiona. “Just... tell him no. Tell him it’s fine. And that... that I don’t know when I can talk to him and to please stop texting.”

            She stared for a long moment and then nodded. She started typing and then handed the phone back to him before hitting send. He read through her words, hit the button to send, and then set the phone back down on the counter, breathing heavily.

            “You all right?” Fiona asked. “Meds working yet?”

            He shrugged. “Still a little fuzzy. Tired.” He paused. “I should start studying.”

            She nodded. “You’ll talk to Mickey soon though?”

            “Soon,” Ian agreed and then headed back up to his room.


	71. Chapter 71

Two days later, with no new texts from Mickey and the meds settling down, Ian was busy studying when a knock sounded on the door. He glanced towards the living room where Lip was already moving towards the door. He looked back at his notes, trying to memorize the date that the Archduke was shot.

            Murmured words floated back to him as gibberish until Lip called, “Ian, it’s for you!”

            Ice ran through his veins. Slowly, he rose from the table and headed out towards the front door, twirling his pen between his fingers like a cigarette. Lip stepped back from the door to reveal Mandy standing there, bundled from head to toe in holed wool, shivering on the front step.

            Ian calmed a little at the sight of her. “Wanna come in?” he asked.

            She shook her head. “Let’s walk.”

            His nervousness shot up but he grabbed his jacket and walked out into the cold. She was silent for a long time, letting the quiet of the winter surround them as they left the block. Then, without preamble, she asked, “What the fuck if wrong with you?”

            Ian blinked.

            “You run out of the apartment god-knows-when and it takes you three fucking days to get back to Mickey,” she said. “He was terrified. He had no idea what happened. He walked around the perimeter of the building, worried you went back up to the roof and fell off.”

            He pursed his lips, unsure of what to say.

            “Were you drunk?”

            “No.”

            “Then what?”

            Ian was silent for a long moment, letting the cold numb him again. He glanced towards Mandy, who was watching him patiently, and bit his bottom lip to stop a sigh. “I’m bipolar.”

            She stared at him. “Oh.”

            He swallowed. “And I’ve been on meds, all year long, but I forgot over the weekend and I...” He paused, looking down at the ground. “To be completely honest, that was actually pretty tame as far as mania goes.”

            It was her turn to be silent and a minute later, she shook her head. Her blue eyes flashed in the morning light, the cold glancing off of her. “Why wouldn’t you tell us that?”

            “I didn’t want you to think I was broken.”

            “What?”

            He hesitated, the words getting caught in his throat. He’d tried to explain it to Fiona before, to Lip, but he always got only a sympathetic nod from someone who was only trying to understand.

            “I have these pills. Three different ones, just to keep me normal. They stabilize my mood and they make me feel dull and I have to take them every single day, just so I don’t jump off a roof or slit my wrists or do some other stupid thing that’ll get me killed,” Ian explained. “And one of them’s so I don’t hallucinate. Anti-psychotic.”

            He paused, daring to glance towards her. She was looking down at her feet. “So, basically, I need medication just to be able to function like a normal fucking human being.” He paused.  “My mom was never on medication. She hated it. Said it made her feel less than human and I always felt that... admitting I was on it was like admitting that I was willingly less than human. That something about me was fundamentally broken.”

            Mandy was quiet so long that he wondered if she knew he was at the end of his speech. It was a crappy explanation and he wasn’t sure that it made any sense to anyone who hadn’t seen his mom blow through her life like it was going out of style. And then he started to think Mandy wasn’t talking because that’s exactly what she saw him as. Less than human.

            Then she said, “That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

            “What?”

            She looked up at him, her blue eyes ice against the wintery road. Shaking her head, she said, “We’re all broken. Absolutely everyone is falling to pieces just trying to hold ourselves together and you’re worried that people are going to think you’re beyond repair because you’ve gotta take a few pills to be all better?

            “I mean, I know it’s not that simple, but science has an explanation for your kind of broken. Your problem... it’s fixable. Doctors know exactly how to put all your broken pieces back into place, unlike the rest of us.

            “Everyone else holds themselves together with duct tape and safety pins. And no one’s ever going to know what’s wrong with us. No one’s ever going to be able to tell me why I date these bullshit guys and fall in love with them and do this to myself over and over and over again. My brand of broken is completely my own and I tape myself up and I go on with my life but I am always, _always_ falling to pieces. You don’t have to be.”

            Ian exhaled a bitter laugh. “You’re saying being bipolar is a good thing?”

            “I’m saying knowing what’s wrong is a good thing,” she said. “Knowing what’s broken is a good thing. Because you have these little pills that you swallow every morning that pull everything back into place. You don’t have to deal with duct tape and safety pins.”

            He stared at her for a long moment before nodding.

            She licked her lips, her saliva nearly freezing against her skin. She shook her head at him. “You don’t need to hide because of that. Mick’ll understand.”

            Ian looked away from her, his eyes moving to his feet which left scuff marks on the frozen pavement. “It’s not about that,” he admitted quietly.

            “What’s it about then?”

            He took a few more steps before stopping and looking up at her. His eyes sparkled with tears and he forced himself to shrug. “What if... what if when I see him again, I don’t love him anymore?”

            Mandy froze for a moment, stunned into silence. She shook her head helplessly and then wrapped her arms tight around his neck. Her breath played against his ear, as if she was about to say something, but couldn’t find any words. Ian buried his face into her shoulder, tears freezing against his skin.

            After a long moment, she pulled back, her hands still around his neck. Her eyes met his and she said, “It’s better to know though, right? To know if you love him or if you just thought you did?”

            Ian shook his head. “I don’t think I could stand it if I didn’t.”

            She nodded and dropped off of him. “You do need to talk to him eventually.”

            He was silent and she took his hand. “He loves you so much,” she whispered, holding back tears herself. “And I don’t think that kind of love can exist one-sided, okay? So everything’s going to be all right. You’re gonna see him and you’re gonna love him and you’re gonna feel so, so stupid for ever thinking that he wouldn’t want to know this about you. Okay?”

            Ian nodded and she squeezed his hand before saying, “Walk me to the bus stop. And try to explain that whole child development thing from Psych to me.”

            Forcing himself to laugh, Ian dipped into the world of Psychology and tried to convince himself his sniffing was from the cold.


	72. Chapter 72

Ian stopped himself from putting a star beside the math question he was working on and instead erased what he was doing to try again. He checked the steps in the textbook, looking between the sample question and his practice one before trying to duplicate the results. Ten minutes later he still had the wrong answer.

            “You’re not carrying the one,” Lip said, coming up behind him.

            “I don’t need to.”

            “Maybe not normally, but because of this weird line right here, you do,” he said, tapping the page.

            Ian looked where he was pointing, then back to the textbook, and erased half of his work once again. Lip sat down next to him at the table, popping the top off a beer, and asked, “How’re you doing?”

            “Fine,” he said, then added, “Annoyed that people are still asking me that.”

            Lip laughed. “So the meds are finally working right, then.”

            “Perfectly.”

            Lip clapped him on the back, then pulled his own notebook onto the table and started reading through his notes. Ian’s phone buzzed and he read Mandy’s message before ignoring it. _When are you gonna call Mick?_

            Lip asked, “Still haven’t spoken to him?”

            “I can’t.”

            Nodding, Lip let the subject drop and lit a cigarette. After taking a drag, he passed it to his brother, who breathed in too much smoke before handing it back. The two of them worked in silence for a long time, passing a cigarette between them, Lip occasionally pointing out what Ian was doing wrong.

            “Hey,” Fiona snapped. “No smoking in the house.”

            They both looked up as she came in through the backdoor, her shirt sparkling in the dim light. Lip shrugged apologetically as Ian snubbed out the cigarette on his notebook.

            “You should be asleep,” she added.

            “We’re adults,” Lip replied.

            “With exams to study for,” Ian added.

            Fiona rolled her eyes. “Adults with exams you’ll be asleep for if you don’t go to bed.”

            “We’ll sleep tomorrow night,” Lip said.

            She sighed and went to the fridge to pull out a beer. She walked over and plopped down at the table, looking between their notebooks. “I wish I could help you guys with this,” she said, taking a sip.

            “You helped enough in high school.”

            She nodded. “But soon everyone’s gonna be in college and you’re all gonna be smarter than me and I’m not gonna be able to help with any of it.”

            “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Lip chided. “You’ve got thirteen years of Liam left.”

            Fiona snorted. “Don’t remind me.”

            “And once he’s in college, you can go yourself,” Ian said, checking an answer in the back of the book. He smiled and looked up at her. “Thirteen years. Think about it like a prison sentence. You’ll be out after that and free to have your own life.”

            “Yeah. When I’m thirty-seven.” She winced at her own words and downed half the beer in one gulp. She looked between the two boys as they worked and then asked, “Kids go down okay?”

            “Debbie’s still up,” Ian said, “or at least she was an hour ago, texting Derek and pretending to read some book for English. Gatsby, I think.”

            “Carl’s looking at porn under the covers,” Lip added, “and Liam’s asleep on the couch. We tried to get him to go to bed at eight but he convinced us he just wanted to watch one more episode of _The Suite Life of Zack & Cody _and then he’d go to bed. He passed out maybe ten minutes later?”

            “I was going to carry him upstairs as soon as I was done,” Ian said.

            Fiona nodded. “I’ll do it in a minute.”

            Their conversation dissolved into silence and, after a few minutes, Fiona got to her feet. She kissed both of their heads before walking into the living room. Ian heard her groan as she slung Liam over her shoulder, murmuring calming lullabies to him as he stirred in his sleep.

            Ian’s phone buzzed once again and Lip grabbed it. “Not a dick pic this time,” he said, as if that was a huge relief. Ian rolled his eyes as Lip typed and then looked up. “Just told Mandy you’d talk to Mick on your own time. When you’re ready.”

            The phone started buzzing violently and Lip winced. “Which she apparently didn’t take well.”

            Laughing, Ian turned off his phone and looked back at his math. Lip closed his notebook and said, “You’ll go to bed soon?”

            Rolling his eyes, he replied, “Yes, mom.”

            Lip flipped him off and headed up the stairs.

            Eyelids drooping, Ian looked back down at the page of problems in front of him. He told himself if he finished one more, he could go to sleep. His first exam wasn’t even math. It was History.

            But the nervousness that thought brought up, along with the memories, caused his stomach to curl so badly that he did three more problems just to calm his mind. Then he tossed and turned all night, unsure what he was going to do on Monday morning.


	73. Chapter 73

Ian entered his exam five minutes late on purpose in order to avoid running into Mickey beforehand. Whispering an apology to the professor, he took his paper and settled into a seat at the back of the room, far from the black head that was arched over his test near the front.

            His heart beat in his stomach, sloshing around the contents of his lunch, as he looked down at the test. He pulled out his pencil and started writing, knowing going in that he was missing some of the information from the last few classes, having never gotten it from Mickey. Hoping he didn’t have anything in his notes Mickey hadn’t had in his, not wanting to be the reason Mickey got a bad mark.

            He forced himself to breathe and focus on the questions. He was there for the test. He quickly looked through all the questions, putting a star next to all the ones he knew for sure and a line next to the ones he was pretty sure of. He only had to answer three out of every four questions according to the instructions. He only had to get half of those right in order to pass the class.

            He worked quickly, trying to be the first to leave the classroom once again, but this time so that he could leave Mickey behind. He still had no idea what he was going to say. How to even start to explain what was wrong with him. And every day he stayed away, the explanation became that much harder, because he had to explain why it was so hard to tell Mickey everything in the first place.

            Just before two hours was up, Ian finished his last question and flipped back to the start of the test to check his answers. He forced himself to read through them slowly and double check everything he had written down. Convinced it was as good as it could be, he slid out of his seat and went to hand it to the professor.

            Ian headed to the back of the classroom to exit through the backdoor and stepped into the hallway, breathing deeply. He lingered for a moment, thinking back over some of the questions, and then glanced to the side as the other door to the room opened.

            Mickey stepped out into the hall and Ian turned away abruptly. His heart leaped into his throat, his panic coming in full force as he started down the hall. The glimpse of Mickey was like the shock of a defibrillator and he couldn’t tell if that meant he loved him or not. If it was real or if it was the mania.

            He forced himself to slow to a normal walk as he exited the building and headed towards the bus station. Boarding the next one to Chicago, he sat down near the back and stared out the window. He watched as Mickey’s car raced down the road.

            He checked his phone several times on the bus ride, but got no texts. He opened his conversations with Mickey and scrolled back to the day he left the apartment. Starting to read, he felt his stomach curl, his breath catching as he read the worry in Mickey’s words. He itched to reply, to ease all of his fears, but knew it was too late now. It might be too late for anything.

            If he still wanted anything.

            Ian took the long way home, winding through the streets of the Southside, trying to appreciate the beauty of the icicles in the dying sunlight. He turned down his street, coming around to the front of his house for the first time in a long time, and paused when he saw Mickey’s car parked in front of the fence.

            Slowing his walk, he stared at the brown paint until he forced his eyes to flicker towards the porch. As he got closer, he saw Mickey sitting on the top step, his foot tapping impatiently against the bottom one, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. Ian kept going slower with every passing second, wondering how long it would be before he stopped all together.

            He turned in through the gate and Mickey looked up at him, his blue eyes brightening at the sight of him. And Ian’s heart stopped. It’s frantic beating slowed and steadied, his mind quieting, and he remembered his first night with Mickey. The first time he knew how nice it was to be inside Mickey’s silence.

            _“Hey,”_ Mickey signed, watching Ian warily.

            Ian tried to force himself to breathe again. He stepped up the walk and said, _“Hey.”_

            He stopped just in front of Mickey, then turned to lower himself down beside him on the steps. He licked his lips, wondering what he was going to say, as he looked over at the side of Mickey’s face.

            _“What the hell happened to you?”_ Mickey asked finally.

            Ian said _, “I was off my meds.”_

            Mickey blinked.

            And Ian fell into the whole story. He started earlier than he did with Mandy, with his mom and what he had meant when he had told Mickey she was sick. About her first suicide attempt and her second, before she finally left the family for good. He told him about the first time he felt like slitting his wrists himself, about how long he had kept it a secret because he didn’t want to be labelled as being “like Monica”, and how that depression had turned into mania, which sent him to the crack house and how he crashed again there.

            He went through the process of getting the medication. Of how Debbie had been the one to convince him to get help. Of how sporadically he’d been taking it since staying with Mickey and of how he had forgotten completely in his worry for Mickey after Thanksgiving. His fingers slowed, hesitating over the words, as he said, _“And then I just... couldn’t face you. I didn’t know how to explain how I was acting. I didn’t know... if any of it was real anymore.”_

            Mickey stared at him for a long moment, his blue eyes wide. Then he signed, _“I love you. No matter what. I wish you’d known that.”_

            Ian swallowed hard, trying to stop himself from crying. His heart flooded with love for the boy in front of him. The thug he had once hated for blowing him off in class. His friend, his friend with benefits, his boyfriend. And he wondered how he had ever doubted that he was in love with Mickey Milkovich.

            Because the truth was, he had been in love with him for a long, long time before Thanksgiving.

            Mickey looked uncomfortable though and, for a long moment, that kept them apart. Then he asked, _“Was it real? For you, I mean.”_

            Ian leaned forward and kissed Mickey, his heart beating too hard in his chest. He nodded before pulling back to sign, _“I love you.”_

_“You fucking better,”_ he said. Then he kissed Ian again, harder, pulling their bodies together.

            Ian relaxed into the kiss, feeling like he was finally coming home. Mickey pulled back, resting their foreheads together, his hand still lingering at the back of Ian’s neck. His fingers slipped across his skin and he signed, _“We’re gonna be okay.”_

            Ian nodded and then kissed him again.

**The End**


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